


Given Unsought

by Frea_O



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Maveth - Freeform, Slow Burn, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-15 00:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11794971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frea_O/pseuds/Frea_O
Summary: Jemma returns from Maveth with a little something extra in tow. She and Daisy attempt to deal.





	1. Weeks Four to Seven

**Author's Note:**

> **Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.**   
>  _The Twelfth Night, Act III, Scene I, Line 147_

_**Week Four** _

In her years at SHIELD, Daisy had learned to evaluate the silence of the post-mission flight. The grim quiet of a failed mission had an entirely different flavor to the quiet of exhaustion after a successful op. And a truly successful op didn’t usually contain great stretches of time without talking. Bringing an agent back from the dead usually called for breaking into one of Hunter’s many secret stashes of beer on the quinjet and cracking open a cold one. If Bobbi was the pilot, she’d play cheesy eighties pop on the intercom and Daisy could get a dance party started in the hold.

She’d even twirled May once. That had been very, very strange, and Daisy still wasn’t sure she hadn’t dreamed that.

The flight from Gloucester should have been jubilant, full of dancing and music. They’d brought Simmons back. She was safe, and coming home, and Fitz—after months and months where Daisy had lost hope—had done it, the cheeky bastard. He’d gone to another world and had come back clutching his friend. By all rights, even though she’d drained all of her energy, Daisy should have been standing on her seat, holding a beer aloft and shout-singing Captain & Tenille with Mack. Instead, she sat quietly in the co-pilot’s seat and watched his giant hands as he moved them over the controls. 

“Feeling okay?”

“Nothing sleeping for a year can’t fix.” She stretched out her arms, grimacing as her muscles creaked. “I still can’t believe Fitz did it.”

“Can’t you? He’s a determined one, our Fitz.”

Daisy nodded. She could have flown back on Zephyr One, but she hadn’t wanted to abandon Mack. Plus, she suspected that she’d only be in the way as Bobbi checked Simmons over. And maybe there was a desire to avoid more unnecessary medical checkups herself. Sure, she had the mother of all migraines, but the nosebleed had stopped. She’d be fine. “What do you think it was like over there?”

“Looked like it was pretty dusty.” Mack flipped a couple switches overhead.

Daisy glanced down at her front, still covered in dirt from the explosion of the monolith and hugging Jemma afterward. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“We’ll find out more soon enough, Tremors.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just impatient. I can’t believe she’s back. Like finally, something’s going our way.” Chasing down the rapidly expanding inhuman outbreak pattern had grown exhausting. Convincing Dr. Garner to let even one of the people onto her team of secret warriors doubly so. She’d fallen into the classic pitfall of being evaluated by him herself earlier that day and even though she hadn’t wanted to rail at it as much as she would’ve in the past, he did leave her feeling frustrated and annoyed.

But Simmons was back, and she was going to be fine, so that had to count for something.

“A much needed win,” Mack said, smiling as he agreed. “Seatbelt on, we’re coming in.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Pilot sir.”

Mack rolled his eyes at her, but she caught the smile he tried to hide.

The Zephyr had beaten them back to base. Though Daisy expected everybody to be busy with Jemma, Bobbi stood with her hip cocked and her arms crossed over her chest, waiting for the loading ramp to descend. Daisy groaned.

“Time to head to the lab. Coulson’s orders,” Bobbi said.

“I’m fine. I just need to sleep and I’ll feel like a human being again. Things just got a little shaky for a bit—ha. Literally.”

“You passed out twice,” Bobbi said, tilting her head. “We’ll put you on a bunk next to Simmons.”

Okay, that might not be terrible. With all of the science that needed to be run, it wasn’t like she would be able to see Jemma at all otherwise. Daisy followed Bobbi out of the hangar, both of them waving cheerily at Mack as he sarcastically called that, sure, he’d be happy to handle the post-mission checklist by himself, no problem.

“He loves us,” Bobbi said as she walked Daisy to the lab.

Bobbi had lied: they’d put Jemma off to one side of the lab and Daisy was led to the other and checked over by a SHIELD tech. With their leading inhuman biology expert on another planet for months, the rest of the lab workers had had to step up, and it just wasn’t the same. None of them ever gave her lollipops the way Jemma had sardonically taken to doing to keep Daisy from griping about getting poked so much. She wanted to complain, but Bobbi kept looking over and raising an eyebrow at her. Daisy decided it was easier not to cause a ruckus.

“Can I go yet?” she asked.

“Just a couple more tests, Agent Johnson.”

“Sameer, we’re poker buddies. You know all my tells, I think that entitles you to call me Daisy.” 

For that, he took another vial of blood, though he assured her he would’ve done that anyway. Daisy grumped at him and leaned back on her cot. Movement on the opposite side of the room, near where Jemma still slept, caught her eye. One of the techs running blood tests did a double-take at something on his screen and began gesturing, wildly. Fitz and Bobbi immediately raced over. Daisy rose to her feet, too, only for Sameer to grab her arm.

“You probably should give them a moment,” he said.

“If she’s hurt—”

“They’ll figure it out much faster without distractions.”

As much as she hated it, he had a point. Daisy allowed herself to be pulled back, and sat down on the cot while Sameer ran the rest of his tests. She kept an eye on things, monitoring the way the surprised tech gesticulated while talking to Fitz and Bobbi. Fitz shoved him to the side and typed rapidly into his computer. Whatever he saw on the screen made him shove both hands into his curls and rest his hands on his head, elbows out.

Bobbi put a hand on his shoulder and said something to the tech.

“Something’s wrong,” Daisy said. “Something’s wrong with her—I need to—”

But Fitz stomped right past her when she stood up. Bobbi looked over, met Daisy’s eyes, and shook her head. She gestured for Daisy to stay put.

“She can’t expect me to just _sit here_ when something might be wrong with Simmons,” Daisy said.

“Looks like she does.” Sameer rummaged in the pocket of his lab coat and held out a grape lollipop. “Will this help?”

“No.” But Daisy took it anyway. She flopped down, determined to stay until Bobbi gave her some answers. She missed the needle until Sameer had it in her arm. “What the—hey! What are you doing?”

“Dr. Morse’s orders. It’s just a sedative.”

Daisy felt her eyes begin to roll back into her head. “I’m cleaning you out next time we play poker,” she said and the last thing she saw before she slept was Simmons, curled up on a cot, asleep.

~ * ~ * ~

The only mercy when she opened her eyes was that her head no longer ached, but everything else pretty much sucked. Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, her left arm had fallen asleep because she’d apparently laid on top of it for hours, and Mack hadn’t carried her back to her bed like he occasionally did whenever somebody (Bobbi) knocked her out. She’d apparently been kept in the lab, drooling into a pillow for all the techs to see. Not that there were many of those around at the moment.

Daisy rubbed her hand over her face and grimaced at the gritty sensation. She glanced at the clock, saw that it was just after four a.m., and groaned. “I’m quaking Sameer into a wall next time I see him.”

“I’d advise against that.” Bobbi’s voice sounded rusty. Daisy looked over her shoulder and saw her on the chair beside her cot, eyes open and arms crossed over her chest. The knee brace had been set aside for the night. “He was following my orders.”

“Yeah, well, don’t think you’re forgiven either, Barbara.”

Bobbi made a face and sat up. “Like you’d have gotten any sleep with that migraine you tried to hide. You can thank me later.”

“Thank. Right. That’s exactly what’ll happen.” Daisy sat up and stretched. She looked over across the lab, to the other cot on the far end. “Is Simmons okay?”

Bobbi paused for so long that Daisy swiveled away from Jemma to face her coworker. “Is something wrong? The planet wasn’t killing her slowly, was it?” Best to blurt out the worst possible option, get it out of the way, even while her brain hammered _Not Jemma not Jemma not Jemma_.

“No. Her body adapted to what we suspect is a lower level of oxygen, so that will cause a few problems in the short term. Her metabolism’s changed. But she’s healthy.” Bobbi folded her arms over her chest. “But there’s something else, though. She’s pregnant.”

The word slammed into Daisy so hard it might as well have been a punch to the face. “She got sucked into an alien planet and came back _pregnant_? Was it something in the air? Or was it the planet? Wait, how is that even possible? And is she okay? Is the baby okay? How far along—”

“Easy there, motor mouth,” Bobbi said, and Daisy abruptly shut up. Hysteria, she realized. That was what coursed through her veins. That, and adrenaline. “One question at a time.”

“How?” was all Daisy can manage.

“She hasn’t talked much, but as far as we can tell, it happened the usual way. She’s about four weeks along. That’s early to tell, but we’re SHIELD. Cutting edge is kind of our thing.”

“The usual…she wasn’t alone over there?”

“There was an astronaut with her. She didn’t say his name, but we’re assuming that he’s human.” Bobbi shrugged.

Daisy looked toward Jemma. In sleep, she remained twitchy, pale and drawn like she constantly awaited danger. For all they knew, she did. Daisy’d barely heard her say five words since Fitz pulled her out of the portal.

Speaking of…

“Guess there’s no need to ask how Fitz is taking it?” Daisy asked. Late one night, drunk off cheap tequila and sitting in the middle of the room he’d turned into a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream in search of Simmons, he’d confessed that he’d made his move. Daisy, not nearly as drunk, had found herself struggling to congratulate him, with no idea why. They’d be cute together, she’d said, when they got Jemma back. Of course they would be. They were Fitz and Simmons. FitzSimmons. They already had a smushname all their own without even trying.

And hell, Fitz’s mania had paid off, hadn’t it? Fitz had doggedly and methodically followed the steps to save her for months, while Daisy threw herself into finding inhumans so she wouldn’t have to think about the grief and fear waiting just around the corner, far too close for comfort.

“I don’t know,” Bobbi said. “He didn’t say much when he came back.”

She gestured. On the other side of the lab, Fitz had a studied frown on his face as he stared into a microscope. From the set of his shoulders alone, Daisy figured bothering him would be one of the worst ideas she’d entertained since trusting her mother.

“You know she asked him to dinner right before…” Bobbi trailed off.

“I know,” Daisy said. “Should I—I don’t know? Talk to him?”

“You can try, but I don’t think it’ll work. I’m sending Hunter to annoy the truth out of him if he gets back soon.”

Daisy raised her eyebrows. “You’re going straight to the nuclear option?”

“For a man whose talents are very annoying, he’s also very good at what he does.” They both paused when Daisy’s wrist-unit beeped with an alert. “See you later.”

“Um, if she wakes up, tell her I’ll stop by?” There was too much she wanted to ask, as she was burning with curiosity and kind of a weird sense of unreality and terror. Her friend was pregnant. With an actual human child. Well. Daisy looked at her hands. Maybe mostly human. Who knew? Daisy sent one last swift look at Jemma and left to handle whatever emergency had arisen on the inhuman front.

What the hell happened on that planet, and what would Jemma do now?

~ * ~ * ~

**_Week Six_ **

For the next two days, her timing was so terrible, it might as well be one of their plans. She dropped by whenever she could get one of the other agents to cover the enforcement agency channels, but Jemma was always sleeping. Daisy busied herself with briefings and seeing Joey, and worked on trying to track Lincoln, who wasn’t answering her calls. Finally, she escaped and made it to Jemma’s bedroom, but there was no answer to her soft knock, so Daisy moved on to her own quarters two doors down and passed out face first into the mattress.

Coulson called her in before she was even fully awake the next morning, to a distress call in Tallahassee. It turned out to be a false alarm—just a kid with a lighter and some superstitious neighbors—but the mission still nearly went sideways three times. Daisy couldn’t deny that she was frustrated. Searching for other inhumans was beyond trying to find a needle in a haystack. More like a needle in a field full of haystacks.

And behind all of that a constant tattoo beat in her head: _Jemma is pregnant, Jemma came back from an alien planet with a baby_.

In the hangar bay after nearly five days in Florida, she stepped off the quinjet and frowned. “Why don’t you go on without me?” she asked Mack.

“Tremors?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Got something on your mind?”

“Nah, I just—I just—” _Stop babbling, Sk—Daisy. He’s going to know something’s up._ “I think I’ll take a walk, clear my head before I get stuck in an underground base and feeling all claustrophobic. Or worse, somebody needs me to do something.”

Mack eyed her, but he nodded. “I’ll keep your paperwork warm for you.”

“My hero,” she said, and waved at the rest of the support team as they headed in for post-mission grub. Daisy moved back to her quarters to grab a set of civvies, pulling a dark beanie over her hair, and made for the secret exit that put her on Fourth Street. From there, it was only a few blocks to the bookstore.

She kept an eye out, just to be sure nobody tailed her, before taking a deep breath and stepping resolutely to the appropriate shelf. Wow, this area of the bookstore was huge. And there were so many books with similar titles. Daisy stared at the bookshelf.

Rows and rows of babies stared back at her from the covers. She picked up _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ because even a homeless hacker living in a van had heard of that one, and paged through. More than part of her felt ridiculous. It was absurd that she’d even be here looking at these books. Jemma had, like, a gazillion degrees, she was bound to know everything that went into pregnancy. But Daisy didn’t, and she felt kind of stupid about it.

Even worse, there wasn’t really a _What to Expect When Your Best Friend Went to an Alien Planet and is Now Expecting_. Unfair. There seemed to be every _other_ super-specific topic of baby raising on these shelves. But that was Jemma Simmons for you. Always going above and beyond in the most endearing way.

Daisy selected a couple books that didn’t look as schmaltzy as the others, ones she suspected might be written with the fathers in mind, and carried them to the counter. She paid cash and made sure not to be memorable, neither staring nor avoiding the cashier’s eyes. When she left, she kept the beanie low.

At the next store over, she picked up a cloth shopping bag just in case the plastic bag they gave her wasn’t opaque enough. She also rooted around in a small gift section, as she didn’t want Jemma to think she was avoiding her or weird about anything. So a little trinket, that seemed like the ticket. A little blue vase of bright yellow daisies, cheerful and bobbing gently in the breeze of a ceiling fan, caught her eye, and Daisy paid for them almost without thinking about it. Books safely hidden, flowers in hand, she went home.

~ * ~ * ~

For once, she was in luck.

“Skye!” Jemma’s face lit up when Daisy stepped in. Then she looked down and away, sheepish. “Daisy. Sorry.”

Daisy held out the flowers. “It’s a multipurpose gift,” she said. “It’s pretty, and it’s a reminder. You can call me whatever you want.” She absolutely meant that. Everybody else had an adjustment period where they called her Sk-daisy, which was aggravating but at least they were trying. With Jemma, Daisy was so happy she was back that she didn’t care.

She studied her friend, pale and diminished but vibrantly alive, and words came tumbling out. “I can’t stay for too long, I’m tracking law-enforcement channels, but I’m really sorry that I haven’t come sooner. It’s—there’s just a lot going on.”

“And I’ve been sleeping.” Jemma’s voice cracked, but her smile felt real and familiar.

“Which is good,” Daisy said a little too fast. Sleep was good for the baby, right? It seemed like it would be. “Do whatever you need to do to get better. We need you. And I…” What did you say to somebody who comes back from another dimension with an amniotic passenger in tow? She sat down on the bed, glancing once at where Jemma’s hand resting on her abdomen. Absently, like an afterthought.

Jemma sighed. “Bobbi told you.”

“The tech who ran your tests wasn’t exactly discreet. Coulson fired his ass, don’t worry, but Bobbi told the team in case it got out. I know you probably don’t want to talk about what happened yet, but when you do, I’m here to listen.” Daisy set the bag of the books on the floor and sat on the bed, close to but not crowding her friend. Bobbi had warned her that Jemma still jumped at everything.

“I’d rather listen now, if that’s okay.” Jemma leaned forward. “The terrigen is spreading?”

“And so’s the paranoia.” Shoptalk. She could handle shoptalk. Daisy filled her in on the nightmare of the past few months, the way cocoons spread all over the world, with inhumans popping up—

“Like daisies?” Jemma interrupted, giving her a small, real smile.

“I’ll let you have that one,” Daisy said, unable to stop her laugh. “We found a new one a few weeks ago. Joey Gutiérrez. He’s very sweet. He just melts metal, like, poof, wow. I think once he gets a handle on it, he’ll be incredible. If we can ever get Dr. Garner to sign off on letting him be a full-time team member.”

At this rate, Andrew was never going to sign off on _any_ body for a secret inhuman team.

“And you?” Jemma asked, surprising Daisy. “How are you handling all of this?”

“I…” Daisy blinked. She hadn’t really thought about it. How was she handling Lincoln being a fugitive, the ads from politicians on TV, the fearmongering and spreading hate toward what she was? The message boards about “How to Hunt Inhuman Scum” that twisted her stomach into knots? Even at SHIELD, where she was insulated, a couple of the new agents still twitched whenever she walked into the room. “I’m handling it. I’ve been more worried about you, to be honest. You’re really okay?”

“I think so.” Jemma’s voice was soft, like talking too loud hurt her ears. “I just…there’s…some of it is hard to talk about and—”

She jolted like frightened prey when Daisy’s cell phone buzzed. “I am so sorry,” Daisy said.

“N-no, it’s okay. You should take that.”

Guilty, Daisy picked up the phone and answered. Lincoln’s voice, distressed and just as afraid as Jemma seemed, filled her ear. She gave Jemma one last apologetic look and, passing the daisies on the nightstand, hurried off go to handle yet another crisis.

~ * ~ * ~

**_Week Seven_ **

Sometimes Daisy regretted sleeping with a gun within easy reach. Especially at times she woke in the middle of the night, rolled over, and wound up aiming the gun right at her best friend.

She cursed and immediately lowered the gun, but it Jemma still jumped.

“Sorry,” Jemma said. “Sorry!”

“Simmons, what—” Daisy glanced at her alarm clock in a daze. 3:17 a.m. She distinctly remembered seeing 1:42 before passing out. The only light in the room came from the holo-generated fake streetlight “outside” her window, and it barely illuminated Jemma Simmons standing in the corner of her bedroom, her face in shadow. She held an armload of books, which she shuffled to hold her hands up as best she can in a peacekeeping gesture.

“What are you doing?” Daisy asked. She sat up and shoved the covers away from her. “If the answer is ‘trying to give you a heart attack, Agent Johnson,’ good job. All you’re missing is the hockey mask.”

“Daisy, I am so, so sorry. I just—my body’s still not on Playground time, and you left these in my room, so I was thinking about them, and suddenly I was here.”

Daisy finally focused on the books, her hands going cold. The pregnancy books. The ones she left in a bag in Jemma’s room because Lincoln was in trouble. The ones she’d forgotten about up until right now. “Oh.”

Jemma gave her the bolstering half-smile she used when she felt like somebody—Daisy—was being misguided, but she still appreciated the attempt. “They’re—well, some of them are quite basic, actually, and they manage to get what I feel are very key details incorrect, or rather too simplified, but I suppose if you don’t have multiple PhDs in biochemistry and anatomy, they can be an adequate place to start.”

“Simmons,” Daisy said because letting Jemma continue down this path would only lead to rants about scientific inaccuracies, and those could take hours. It was the middle of the night, and Daisy’s entire body felt wrecked.

“Right, sorry,” Jemma said. Her pajamas had test tubes and beakers with little cartoon faces on them, which was adorable, and so Simmons. And even though she lurked in the corner, her shoulders were held up higher than they had been when Daisy had visited her, like her confidence was returning.

None of that meant Daisy wasn’t completely mortified to have been caught with those books. “I didn’t mean to leave the books in your room,” she said. “In fact, you weren’t supposed to know about them.”

“But why even have them in the first place?” Jemma sat next to her on the edge of the mattress, a cute furrow in her brow.

Daisy hunched her shoulders. “I don’t know anything about pregnancy, and Coulson’s so much of a father figure, I’m worried he’d take any questions about babies as an opportunity for the birds and the bees conversation which, let’s be clear, is never happening. Ever.”

“If you had questions, you could ask Bobbi or me or even Fitz—”

“High school dropout here. I feel dumb having to ask you science nerds things sometimes. I figured I’d do some reading on the down-low.” Daisy stacked the books on her nightstand, where they looked very strange sitting next to her gun. After a second, she moved the gun into a drawer. “You know. In case you needed anything, I’d at least know _something_ about what you’re going through.”

Jemma abruptly leaned over and wrapped her arms around Daisy, making her jump. Daisy stayed still for a second, arms pinned to her side. It was really the first contact she’d had since Jemma returned. Now, the unexpected hug felt so nice and comfortable, even if her arms were pinned to her side. “That’s lovely,” Jemma said, words muffled against Daisy’s shoulder. “So remarkably lovely.”

“I don’t know about lovely, but…well, you’ll never have to go through this alone.” Her arms still pinned, Daisy managed to curl her fingers around Jemma’s wrist. She squeezed. “You’ll have Fitz, and Bobbi, and the team. And me. And whoever this guy is, we’ll get him back, too. I figure he’s important in all of this. Whatever his name is.”

“Will,” Jemma said, releasing Daisy. She wiped at her eyes. “His name is Will.”

“Will, huh?” Daisy wiggled her eyebrows because boy talk, she could do. This sharing of feelings and gratitude was a less comfortable arena. “Is he cute, this Will?”

Jemma clicked her tongue and smiled.

“What? I’m just being supportive! And nosy, I guess, because it’s not every day your friend gets sucked into a portal to an uninhabited world and still manages to find herself a…cute guy? Semi-cute guy? Decent-to-look-at-but-not-like-there-are-many-options? Work with me here, Simmons.”

“He’s very attractive,” Jemma confirmed. “He’s an astronaut.”

“Attractive and smart. Sounds like a great match.” But the words tasted a little bitter in her throat, and Daisy had no idea why. Still, she put her hand on Jemma’s arm, gently, trying not to spook her. An impromptu hug didn’t mean she’d gotten over all the issues that other dimension left behind. “We’ll rescue him. You know Fitz. He’ll find a way.”

“He will, and I’m making sure it will be one that doesn’t rely on your powers.” Jemma reached up and pushed a lock of Daisy’s hair—which must have been a mess, this new cut had some serious bedhead issues—back behind her ear.

Okay, that was new. Daisy did her best to focus. “What? You don’t think I can do it? I’ll pull my weight. I can handle another portal.”

“Absolutely not! Mack told me what it nearly cost you to hold that portal open and it’s too dangerous. It’s not an acceptable risk.”

For a second, she saw the old Jemma from their days together on the Bus, scolding her about yet another reckless stunt Daisy’s pulled. Her heart swelled.

“You did serious injury to yourself,” Jemma continued. “And that’s not worth it. It wasn’t even worth it then—”

“Simmons, I’m fine.” Daisy laughed and gestured at her face. “Nosebleed’s all gone and everything.”

“Because you got lucky. The odds were terribly against you.”

“Never tell me the odds,” Daisy said in her best Han Solo.

“Dork.” It earned her the eye-roll and indulgent smile she expected, until Jemma yawned and Daisy remembered that it was nearly 3:30 in the morning and that her body currently hated her. “You should get some rest so that you and Fitz can use those ginormous brains of yours to save your—is it too soon to just call him your baby-daddy?” Daisy said.

Jemma winced good-naturedly. “I wouldn’t say too soon, but it’s a highly regrettable term. And I’m positive ‘ginormous’ isn’t a word.”

“Then how come I just used it? Go on, Dr. Simmons, get some sleep and get back on Playground time.”

“Very well. Good night, Daisy.”

Daisy laid down, expecting to hear the click of the door shutting at any moment, but there was only silence. Confused, she raised her head to see Jemma hesitating at the door. “Simmons? Is something the matter?”

“Sorry. No, nothing’s the matter. Exactly. It’s just—no, it’s silly. Sorry. You need your sleep.” Jemma stopped with her hand outstretched to the doorknob, and sighed. Her shoulders sagged, and Daisy sat up in concern. “It’s just—I can’t sleep. Not alone. It’s the dark, it makes me think I’m back in the other dimension, and normally I’d crawl in with Fitz, but things are so strange between us right now. And it’s not your problem, so I’ll go—”

Daisy scooted over and wordlessly patted the bed. She should’ve figured that one out sooner, she realized, as Jemma Simmons was not the type to haunt people’s rooms in the middle of the night unless something was seriously wrong. “Bed’s plenty big. Get in.”

“No, it’s something I need to learn how to handle,” Jemma said, reaching for the door.

“There’s no handbook for recovering from months on an alien world. If you need to sleep here, you should. Get in. I promise I’ll still respect you in the morning.”

“Oh, Daisy,” Jemma said in that fond way of hers, and it somehow meant even more than when she used to say “Oh, Skye.” She still hesitated a little, but gingerly sat down on the bed. Daisy was positive that she would try to sleep on top of the covers, but they’d already been pulled back, and it would only be awkward. She curled up the way Daisy remembered from all their nights sharing hotel rooms (neither would dare crawl in with May, who always got her own bed) on the run from Hydra.

“Comfortable?” Daisy asked. At Jemma’s nod, she turned off the light.

The last thing she heard before sleep hit was Jemma’s whispered, “Thank you.”

~ * ~ * ~

When she woke, Jemma had gone, leaving only a rumpled divot in the pillow and sheets, long cooled. Still not completely on Playground time, Daisy supposed. Or at least she thought so until she pushed open the bathroom door and found Jemma there. Asleep, with her back against the wall, facing the toilet.

Daisy nudged her thigh with her foot, concerned—and dodged back when Jemma woke up swinging. A very sharp blade flashed; Daisy yelped and nearly fell flat on her ass. Instinctively, she blasted out and knocked the blade from Jemma’s hand.

The knife clattered into the tub, leaving the two of them staring at each other and breathing heavily.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Just me, I swear,” Daisy said, holding up her hands. “I should’ve realized—that was totally my bad—”

Jemma looked around in wide-eyed panic, gulping in breaths. When she ran them through her hair, her hands remained stiff and shaking.

“It’s okay. You’re in the Playground,” Daisy said. Since the knife—where had that even come from?—was safely out of reach, she crouched, keeping her distance. She wanted to kick herself. After months of surviving an alien hellhole, of course Jemma’s instinct would be to assume danger. “You’re safe. I mean, well, okay, you’re sitting on the floor of my bathroom and I don’t really remember the last time I cleaned this place, so that’s a given value of safe. But it’s okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up like that.”

“Sk…Daisy,” Jemma said, like she was gathering her bearings. “Right. Hi.”

“Hi. You can call me Skye still if you need to yell at me,” Daisy said, mustering up a smile. “I won’t tell.”

At least Jemma smiled back, though it faltered quickly. She blew out a long breath and looked around in bewilderment, finally reaching over and collecting the knife out of the tub. “I suppose it would be overstating the obvious to say you startled me.”

“My fault. I didn’t think. May I?” Daisy asked, holding out a hand.

Jemma hesitated before she handed it over. It was carved from bone and—Daisy winced as it pricked a drop of blood—sharp as hell, but primitive, too. “You sleep with this now?” Daisy asked.

Jemma nods.

“Nice. Good weight to it. May would be proud.” Daisy made an experimental stab at the air, away from Jemma. She could imagine her friend had made some quick work of alien world predators with this.

“You’ve gotten much more precise,” Jemma said, clearing her throat.

“Huh?”

“With your powers. You hit the knife, not my hand.”

Daisy studied the knife, then flipped it around to offer it back to her hilt-first. “It’s got a weird vibration to it. Like, it actually feels alien. That makes it an easy target, I guess.”

“Does it? Fascinating.” Jemma eyed Daisy speculatively.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked, hoping to distract Jemma from obvious thoughts of scientific testing. “My snoring wasn’t loud enough to scare you into the bathroom, was it?”

“You weren’t snoring. I felt nauseated and was concerned that I might throw up.” Jemma ran her hand over her mouth and climbed to her feet, accepting Daisy’s hand up without apparently thinking about it. She patted Daisy on the shoulder on the way by. “Mercifully, I didn’t. But it does appear morning sickness has set in. I had hoped genetics would relieve me of that burden, but my mother spent nearly four months sick whilst pregnant with my brother, so it’s not meant to be.”

“That’s a bummer,” Daisy said. “Can I get you anything? Ginger ale or something?”

“It seems to have passed for now.” Jemma gave her a tired smile. “I think I’ll just go back to sleep.”

“Take the bed. I’m late meeting Bobbi, anyway.” She’d promised Bobbi she’d meet up with her for some sparring, and first person to arrive always got to pick the weapons. Bobbi _always_ went for the quarterstaff. No point in showering, but Daisy tied her hair back and washed her face. When she tiptoed back in, Jemma had already curled up under the covers—on Daisy’s side of the bed, that sneak—so Daisy hurried over to the dresser and changed into workout gear, keeping her back to her friend.

Bobbi had already beaten Daisy to the gym because she was clearly a cylon who didn’t need sleep. When she tossed over a travel mug of coffee, Daisy took the uncharitable thought back. Though the cylon thing would explain the perfect hair, really.

“Decide to sleep in, lazy?” Bobbi asked as Daisy gulped down coffee.

“Excuse you, I didn’t even hit the snooze button.”

“And yet you’re late.” Bobbi tossed her a quarter-staff and followed it up with an attack.

Daisy dropped the staff and blasted her, a short hit that knocked Bobbi back six inches, while she sipped her coffee. May would have punished her for using powers during sparring by attacking twice as hard, but Bobbi only laughed and did a little ‘after you’ bow. Finally, when Daisy felt good and ready, she worked her toes under the staff and flipped it up into her hand, setting the coffee aside. At least it was in a spill-proof mug.

You could only spill the man’s coffee with tremor attacks so many times before Coulson adapted.

They had the workout room to themselves, as most of the teams were out scouting for inhumans or working in conjunction with the ATCU. Having lots of places to hide and evade really helped. May’s training had ensured that Daisy was competent in all hand-to-hand weapons, but Bobbi had a reach like a giantess. She might be slim, but it was all belligerent muscle, and she hit more like a mack truck than a mockingbird.

Which was why Daisy swore rather stridently the third time the quarterstaff hit her thigh. She hopped on one foot and rubbed the area, glaring at Bobbi.

“Sorry,” Bobbi said through her laughter. “What’s up with you today? I telegraphed that. You had to see that hit coming a mile away.”

“I didn’t sleep much.” Even though Jemma had only woken her up for fifteen minutes or so, it dragged at her limbs now. “Also I’m a little out of it. I startled Simmons awake and accidentally quaked her when she attacked me with a knife. Not the best start to my morning.”

Bobbi blinked. “You stopped by to see Simmons?”

“She fell asleep in my bathroom. I was trying to wake her up like a good friend so she could avoid, you know, going around with her head at angle from sleeping like that.”

Bobbi’s face had a certain journey for whenever Fitz and Simmons said something outlandish. Daisy’d had the joy of witnessing it, but she’d never caused such a reaction herself before. She was almost proud.

“Simmons slept in your room?” Bobbi finally said.

“Yeah.” Daisy caught the look on Bobbi’s face. “Oh, come on. She was dropping some books off and ended up falling asleep.”

“Returning…books.” Bobbi snorted. “That’s what you’re going with? I have never seen you with a book.”

“You can put books on your phone these days. Technology! It’s amazing.” They dropped back into sparring without skipping a beat. “I read all the time.”

“Oh yeah? Let’s start a SHIELD book club, then. What’s the last book you read?”

Hell. What _was_ the last book she read? One that wasn’t about coding, anyway? Maybe Bobbi had a point. Daisy remembered trying to get through aHemingway novelLincoln had let her borrow at Afterlife. What had that been? Oh, right: “The Old Man and the Sea.”

“Really? And what happened in that book?”

“There…was a sea. And an old man, of course. Duh.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” Bobbi said smugly, dodging a strike and smacking Daisy’s shoulder with the back of her hand as she twirled by. “So Jemma happened to be dropping by to ‘return some books,’ huh?”

Daisy leaped over a low sweep of the staff and struck back, taking the knee to the side almost philosophically. She grunted and danced back. “If you must know, they were pregnancy books. I bought them because, well, in the orphanage babies kind of just appear fully formed. Do you know how much time I have spent around pregnant women? No time. None. Jemma gave them back when I left them in her room the other day, and when it was obvious she couldn’t sleep, I scooted over. Like a good friend. None of this pervy…” Daisy waved vaguely at Bobbi’s face. “Whatever you’re trying to say there, Dr. Morse.”

“You know I’m just teasing, right?” Always a show-off, Bobbi twirled the staff, shrugging when Daisy blasted it from her hands. “Feeling a little defensive, are we?”

Daisy tossed her staff aside and met her in simple hand-to-hand, using her quicker speed to her advantage as much as possible. “I’m not defensive. We’re just friends.”

“Sure.” Bobbi put her in a headlock and rolled easily when Daisy flipped them both over. They sprang apart, circling each other on the mat. “I’ve always thought she had a crush on you, actually.”

If she thought that would throw Daisy off, this really was her first day on the job. Daisy scoffed.

“No, I’m serious,” Bobbi said.

“Yes because I’m a super-smart Scottish scientist who talks like this,” Daisy said in what she felt was a fairly accurate imitation of Fitz’s brogue.

Clearly not, from the way Bobbi cringed. “Whatever, it’s just a thought. Though I expected you to just blow me off. Maybe Simmons isn’t the one with the crush.”

Daisy groaned.

“That’s your comeback?” Bobbi asked.

“Your face is stupid.”  

“Uh-huh.”

“She doesn’t have a crush. Neither do I.” But the last time she’d dug herself into a hole this deep, she’d needed her quake abilities to do it. Why did it feel so important to clarify? She didn’t want to answer that. “Haven’t you read the memo? I go for bad boys. Always have.”

Bobbi tilted her head in concession that she wasn’t alone. It said a lot about her life, Daisy supposed, that she could be lumped in the same romantic category as an amazon with a tempestuous on-again-off-again relationship with her hothead ex-husband. But then, she’d never been the picture of wisdom when it came to matters of the heart. Miles and Ward were more than proof enough. And the guy she currently liked? On the run from the law.

Could she pick ’em or what?

Mercifully, Bobbi dropped the teasing, and they fell into the natural pattern of sparring. An hour later, Daisy walked back to her room. She should have been rejuvenated from such a vicious workout, ready to go out and find new inhumans and punch people in the face. Instead, Bobbi’s teasing ate at the back of her mind, disquieting her. She knew she needed to ignore it. Bobbi couldn’t be right: she and Jemma were just friends. And even if she _was_ right, so what? Daisy could count the number of true, close friends she’d had in her life on one hand. She wasn’t about to screw any of that up.

But when she stepped into her room and saw Jemma still sleeping, curled up, she decided not to tell anybody else how long she stood in the doorway, just watching over her friend.


	2. Weeks Ten through Fourteen

**_Week Ten_ **

Part and parcel of surviving life in the Playground, with their rooms stacked like Legos and the walls thinner than the shell around Hunter’s masculinity, meant developing a knack for finding spots to be alone, and for avoiding others who wanted to do the same. As Mack put it, sometimes quality alone time at SHIELD meant pretending not to see the other fifteen agents brooding in the room with you.

Daisy had her spots. The lounge on sublevel C that smelled like old man and shoe polish. The mess hall on Tuesday afternoons. Fitz and Simmons’ lab when they had assays to be run downstairs. And as a courtesy, she left others alone to brood—with the exception of Fitz.  She needed a scapegoat to make her watch those horror movies that would invariably keep her awake, and whatever, Fitz brooded way too much anyway. She left Hunter to his sulks, Bobbi to her pensive reverie, and Mack to his philosophical musings. If May’d had a brooding spot before she left, well, Daisy had never found it, but no way would Daisy have ever disturbed her. There was a woman who believed in “me time,” and Daisy could respect that.

But now Daisy broke all her rules and picked her way through the hydraulic supports for the hangar doors, careful not to step anywhere that would make Mack sigh at her. She had two brown bottles dangling from her left hand and a determined look in place.

“Hey,” she said.

Jemma, who’d been staring at her feet rather than the clear skies overhead, looked up swiftly. A smile appeared. “Daisy. You found me.”

“Should’ve disabled the cameras if you were gonna give the warden the slip. Here.” Daisy held out one of the bottles. “Got you the closest thing to beer you can have.”

“Just because it has the word ‘beer’ on the label does not actually make it similar, I must point out.”

Daisy took a seat, grimacing as the cold immediately ate through her jeans. She could see a comm unit, no doubt “borrowed,” resting by Jemma’s knee, which would warn her of any incoming or outgoing quinjets and allow her time to get out of the way of the doors. But apart from that, it was a peaceful spot for quiet reflection. Nobody would think to look atop the Playground, and it held a really pretty view of the stars. The November wind was particularly cutting tonight. Daisy wished she’d grabbed cocoa instead of root beer, even if it would’ve made climbing more difficult.

Carbonation hissed as she cracked open her bottle of root beer. She tapped it against Jemma’s. “Feels like all those times we used to sneak Ward’s beers on the Bus.”

“Mm-hmm. He hated that.”

“Good.”

Jemma traced her finger along the edge of the bottle label. “You could’ve brought a beer for yourself. There’s no need to abstain simply because I am.”

“Drinking beer when you can’t is cruel, Simmons.” Though she would have preferred it. The root beer was too sweet, cloying and sticky and cold. “Solidarity, sister.”

“I notice this noble sacrifice doesn’t extend as far as your morning coffee.” Jemma bumped her shoulder against Daisy’s, smirking.

Daisy grinned back at her. “It’s better for everyone if I don’t give up my morning coffee. Morale plummets, things get shaky, you know.”

“You could try going to bed at a reasonable hour.”

“Too sensible. Coffee’s easier and bonus, it doesn’t judge me for my sleep cycles.”

“Fair.” Jemma sighed. “I dreamed about coffee in the other dimension.”

Daisy raised her eyebrows.

Fond exasperation laced a second sigh from Jemma. “Very well. I’ll confess: I dreamed about tea. Brewed in a proper, actual kettle—”

“Someday you’ll have to tell me about the microwave that hurt you, to make you hate them so much.”

“—at just the right temperature, and steeped to absolute perfection. A dollop of milk. The taste, the warmth. The caffeine.” Jemma rested her head back, her eyes closed like she was dreaming of it then, too. “After hugging Fitz, and you, and Coulson, and everybody, it was going to be the first thing I did. Brew myself a proper cuppa and drink it at the window, basking in proper sunlight.”

Daisy’s lips curled up. She’d seen Jemma do exactly that on countless mornings on the Bus. “Sounds like a good dream.”

“It was. I’ve had every part of it but the caffeine now.” Jemma set the root beer aside without drinking any. She let out a long breath and rubbed her hands down her thighs. “I’m ten weeks along.”

“Congratulations,” Daisy said slowly, suspecting this might be why Jemma had come up to the roof in the first place.

Jemma surprised her by leaning over and resting her head on Daisy’s shoulder, not saying a thing. She rarely initiated contact first, and it was usually only a hand pat or a hug. But it felt like a storm might be brewing deep inside, and all of the words kept quiet in the past four weeks might come spilling out. She’d been back a month and the only person she’d really talked to, it seemed, was Dr. Garner. With May and Hunter still gone, Jemma quiet, Coulson obsessed with Rosalind Price, and Fitz buried in portal calculations, it had been a very odd and disconnected time for Daisy. She wrapped an arm around Jemma.

“Is ten weeks significant?” she asked. “Confession: I haven’t read the books yet. I mean, I started, but maybe Bobbi had a point about me never reading.”

“It’s near the end of the first trimester. The books cautioned about waiting to tell others until after the ten-week mark had passed,” Jemma said, her voice dull. “Well, ten to twelve weeks. The chances of a miscarriage decrease significantly then. So it’s prudent to wait just in case it didn’t take. To avoid awkwardness and painful reminders.”

“Did you even want kids?” Daisy asked, as she’d never really had that sort of conversation with anybody on the team. Growing up in the system, kids were such a weird subject. She liked them, and babies were cute, but the whole motherhood thing felt strange and ill-fitting to her. Possibly because she’d been taken from her own mother, and the woman had turned out to be kind of a vampire.

It was bound to leave a mark.

“Someday, I did,” Jemma said. “In the distant future. I’m a scientist, with plans. I have goals. I’m not—I’m not _careless_. There was supposed to be a proper order. I’d meet someone, fall in love, an acceptable amount of time would pass, they would propose or I would, and then a wedding, time to be married as adults enjoying each other. I’d be running a proper lab, by then, and writing groundbreaking papers in my field. Then, and only then, children.”

“Equal-opportunity proposals? Very forward of you.”

“I’m a strong woman, Daisy, I know my own mind.”

“It’s one of my favorite things about you,” Daisy said, letting out a laugh without meaning to. Jemma wrinkled her nose at her. “I’m a little bit in awe of you for even having a plan. I can’t even figure out what I’m having for breakfast when I wake up in the morning.”

“You’ve got other admirable qualities.” Jemma’s voice grew quiet and impossibly small. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

“You have options, you know. Whatever you choose to do, I’ve got your back. And nobody will judge you, whatever choice you make.” Daisy took a sip of her root beer, which definitely hadn’t improved. She added, “Unless you name him Alistair. Then I’ll judge.”

“Hey! I have an uncle named Alistair and I’ll have you know he’s a lovely man.”

“Them’s the breaks,” Daisy said.

“Oh, Daisy.” Jemma shook her head, finally lifting it off of Daisy’s shoulder. She didn’t pull away, so Daisy could feel the tension rippling up her shoulders. “I don’t think I want to…not what you’re suggesting. What if Will never makes it back and this baby is all that’s left of him?”

“And what if he does come back and he wants nothing to do with it? You’re the one here and now, you have to make the choice that’s right for you and that’s right for this baby. I saw so many kids that their parents didn’t care, or didn’t take them into account and they ended up in those homes, just like me.” The words came tumbling out before Daisy could stop them. She swallowed hard and shut up, mostly because if she kept talking, she suspected her voice might break.

Jemma grabbed her hand. “It wouldn’t be like that, ever, if I have this child. I wouldn’t be doing that out of a sense of obligation, and I wouldn’t leave the child without backups in place.”

“Right. You’re right. Sorry for even suggesting—”

“No, Daisy, no, you’re completely in the right.” Jemma grabbed her hand. “It’s a sore subject, I have to figure.”

“A little.” Daisy’s laugh was humorless. “And in the end, it turns out that I’m one of the rare cases. My parents _did_ want me. But…is it too flippant to say ‘shit happens?’”

“Sore subject,” Jemma said again. “I don’t know if I want—actually, no. What I mean to say is that it doesn’t feel real, even though I’ve seen the tests. But now ten weeks have passed and I have to make choices. I was hoping it would feel real by now.”

“Choices?”

“I’ll need to decide my future with SHIELD. Less fieldwork, obviously, and I’ll need to reduce my working hours dramatically. I don’t think Agent Coulson would approve a crèche, not with how dangerous things get in the Playground, so naturally I’ll need to look into that eventually.”

Daisy made a mental note to look up what a crèche was.

“Bobbi will need to step up and take over more of my responsibilities in the field.” Jemma was fully rambling now, lost in her own thoughts. She tilted her head. “And of course I’ll need to prepare Fitz so he accepts that, and my moving out of the Playground.”

“Wouldn’t he just go with you?” Daisy asked, baffled.

Jemma frowned. “Why would he—oh! We’re not together. We went—he took me to a restaurant right after I came back, and it was…” She blew out a breath. “It was a bloody disaster, honestly.”

The correct and friendly response would be to offer sympathy. Daisy felt more like dancing, and had absolutely no idea why. “That sucks. I was pulling for you two.”

“I think we both were, but I need him as my friend. Navigating coming back from another dimension whilst pregnant, on top of a romantic relationship that could ruin everything? Can you imagine the stress?”

“Right,” Daisy said. Strangely, she no longer felt like dancing. “Going from friends to being together while dealing with all of that, it’d be a nightmare.”

“Thank you for seeing it right away. It took me forever to persuade Fitz.” Jemma sagged a little. “And I’ll have to tell my parents. The easiest lie might be that Will was a fling of some sort. Just in case…”

“We’re going to get him back.”

“As ever, I appreciate your optimism, but in this case, I must be pragmatic. Even if we get him back…he was somebody who was there, you know? I don’t know how a relationship in the real world would work, or if I even want that. So, a fling it is.”

“How’re the elder Simmonses going to react? Are they super traditional about this sort of thing?”

“I expect Dad would have preferred that I get married and the like first, but Mum’s somewhat of a free spirit.”

Daisy twisted suddenly, giving her friend a wide-eyed look. “Free spirit? Simmons, is your mother a hippie?”

“She may have taken part in protests and marches.” Jemma straightened up primly.

Daisy laughed and finished her root beer. “Go Mama Simmons.”

“She’ll be very pleased, no doubt, to have your approval. I’m grateful that Coulson never told them I was missing, as that might’ve invoked more questions that I’m willing to answer.” Jemma glanced over when Daisy gave her a confused look. “They think I took a lab job when SHIELD fell. Fitz, too. They have no idea about what we do, and I’ve no desire to tell them. Adding a baby to that mix? It’s something of a nightmare. In addition, once I tell them I’m pregnant, it really _is_ real.”

Daisy looked down at Jemma’s midsection. “Hate to be the one to tell you this, but it’s real,” she said.

“I know.” Jemma sighed and rested her elbows on her knees, staring up at the sky and falling silent.

Daisy would have been content to sit beside her all night and let her have her quiet reflection, but: “Simmons?”

“Yes?”

“I lost all feeling in my ass, like, twenty minutes ago. It’s _cold_. Let’s go inside.”

Jemma laughed. “Yes. Let’s.” She collected the neglected soda bottle and comms unit and climbed to her feet, holding out her hand. Daisy wasn’t sure why she didn’t let go as they made their way back across the hangar roof to the stairs. But she definitely didn’t mind.

~ * ~ * ~

**_Week Eleven_ **

“Why are men so frustrating?” Daisy asked as Mack lowered the quinjet ramp. “Is it, like, a thing that you learn in the womb? Is there a secret man school where you take lessons? Is it sponsored by Axe body spray?”

“I don’t know, but yes it’s probably a thing like that, there’s no school, we _might_ take lessons—I’ll never tell, and no, we prefer to smell better than that.” Mack wheeled a flat of boxes down the ramp, parking it out of major hangar traffic. He walked past her, back onto the jet. “Let me take a wild stab in the dark here—someone’s having man troubles.”

“What gave it away?” Daisy climbed aboard the quinjet to help him unload the cargo.

“Lincoln again?”

“The ATCU almost caught up to him. In getting away, he fried the power grid for a small city near Augusta.”

“Maine or Georgia? Never mind, not important,” Mack said, catching Daisy’s expression.

“The more property damage he does, the harder it is to convince the ATCU to bring him in peacefully.” Daisy held up a bag. “This is _a lot_ of potatoes.”

“Bobbi’s a fan. Lincoln will come in when he’s good and ready. He’ll learn there are people he can trust here.”

Daisy wasn’t so sure. The longer Lincoln remained on the run felt like a personal slight, even though she knew it had nothing to do with her. Coming from Afterlife, he’d been skeptical of SHIELD from the start. And he wasn’t wrong to be—Coulson had pretty much sold him out to the ATCU. But he couldn’t just kiss her and decide she wasn’t capable of handling all this weird shit.

“I guess I’m just a little upset because I was kind of hoping this whole thing would’ve passed by now. And if he comes in now, he gets stuffing and turkey.” Daisy grabbed the last box to carry down and load onto the flat, trailing behind Mack. She’d really hoped Lincoln would be done with this fugitive thing by now. Having him there with her team on Thanksgiving would have been amazing.

But no, the world continued to be stupid.

She helped Mack transport all of the food for the feast to the kitchens for the staff to whip into shape under the direction of Coulson, who’d made the holiday his personal mission this year for some reason. Afterward, she spent a couple hours trying to break through ATCU firewalls—unsuccessfully—until a text from Fitz arrived. Daisy glanced over the message once and immediately set her laptop to the side, heading for the den.

“Mack says you’ve been asking about why men are terrible again,” Fitz said when Daisy dropped onto the couch next to him. He held out the bowl of popcorn as an offering.

“You, Coulson, and him, you’re all excluded from that.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to think I’m terrible.”

“Never.” Daisy rested her head on his shoulder, which she knew he hated—or pretended to hate. Sometimes she and Jemma messed with him by using excessive amounts of affection, and he’d bat at them irritably. It was such a high school thing to do, but it wasn’t like any of them had had a normal experience there. They had to make up for lost time. “What’s on the cinematic menu tonight?”

“Even though it’s a Wednesday and not our typical Saturday?” Fitz stressed, as he generally liked to gripe about Thanksgiving being on a Thursday. “We’re now considered off-duty, so we’ll be doing a double showing. _Funny Face_ and _Duck Soup_.”

“What? Those aren’t horror movies.”

“Jemma’s joining us as soon as she’s off the phone with her parents.”

“After everything we’ve lived through, horror movies can’t be that scary for her. She should be able to deal! C’mon. Something with a lot of blood and some quality creepiness. You know you want to.”

Fitz definitely did look tempted. After a moment, he nodded but he gave her a sideways glance. “Fine by me, but it’s your bed she’s crawling into when she can’t sleep later, not mine. I’m locking my door. She’s a cover hog and maintenance still hasn’t fixed that draft in my room.”

“Acceptable losses,” Daisy said, sitting up. “Play the scary movie, Fitz.”

She’d already jumped three times—and had gotten into two arguments with Fitz about the plausibility of torture scenes—before she heard Jemma’s footsteps. Jemma tiptoed in, made a face as the viscera onscreen, and settled herself between them, collecting the popcorn bowl from Fitz. “You two are going to give yourselves nightmares,” she said.

“I’m not scared,” Fitz and Daisy said in unison, and Jemma shook her head at them.

As much as it delivered on the creepy front, the movie wasn’t one of their better selections, even though it made the three of them jump. When Fitz let out an involuntary “no!” at the main lady being menaced, Daisy and Jemma teased him mercilessly. He tried to return the favor, picking on them about drooling over the main dude in a shirtless scene, but Daisy and Jemma merely giggled.

“You two are the worst,” Fitz said in disgust, stealing the popcorn bowl from Jemma. “Should be ashamed of yourselves, you should, ogling him like a piece of meat. Of manflesh!”

“Clearly he takes the time to work out, and we’re…appreciating his hard work, aren’t we, Simmons?”

“It’s only right to acknowledge it, Fitz,” Jemma said, giving him a gigantic smile. “He works so hard.”

Fitz took a giant handful of popcorn and muttered something about bad influences. Daisy threw a kernel at him and pointed innocently at Jemma when he whipped about in indignation.

Hot men or not, though, the plot grew a little predictable for her and the jump scares became passé. Fitz continued to absently shovel popcorn into his mouth, absorbed in the film, but Daisy noticed that Jemma had begun to stare off into space, mind clearly somewhere else.

Daisy nudged her shoulder and gave her a questioning look. “What’s going on?”

“I told my mum and dad,” Jemma whispered, leaning away from Fitz.

“How’d they take it?”

“Shocked, I think. But happy for me. I pretended I was happy about it, for their sake.”

“Yikes,” Daisy said, as that sentence left a lot to unpack.

“It’s fine,” Jemma said. She forced a smile, leaning even closer to Daisy so that she was whispering directly in her ear. “They asked if it was Fitz’s. That was a bit awkward.”

“A bit?” Daisy asked a little too loudly, and Jemma shushed her. Daisy wrinkled her nose back at her and dropped back to the whisper. “Bet you feel better now that you told them, though.”

Jemma frowned, looking upward as she gave the matter some thought. “You’re right. I do feel better.”

“I always feel loads better when I break down and tell Coulson whatever I’ve been keeping from him. Last week, I—”

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting gossip night? I thought this was movie night,” Fitz said.

“Sorry, Fitz,” Jemma said.

“Yeah, sorry,” Daisy added.

On screen, the killer swung his machete. Entrails flew everywhere, inspiring Jemma to gasp “Oh good lord!” and hide her face in Daisy’s shoulder.

“Now that’s properly gruesome!” Fitz said, his eyes lighting up.

“You okay there, Simmons?” Daisy asked.

She didn’t move. “Let me know when it’s over.”

“The gross part? That’s over.”

“No, the movie. The whole thing.”

Daisy laughed and shifted to get more comfortable and to make it easier for Jemma to hide her face. From the squeaking sounds occasionally emerging from under her arm, she figured Jemma had to be peeking. They stayed that way for the rest of the movie, Fitz occasionally shushing them whenever they whispered to each other.

When the credits rolled, and the main character had successfully vanquished the killer at the cost of all of her friends’ lives, Daisy carefully sat up and extricated her arm from beneath Jemma. She tried to be nonchalant about getting the feeling to return.

“Can’t we watch a comedy?” Jemma asked, blinking owlishly as she sat up. “Ooh, a romantic comedy. Something with dancing.”

“Nothing black and white,” Daisy said.

“No Cary Grant,” Fitz said at the same time. He thought about it. “And no cats.”

After a good deal of bickering, mostly from Fitz, they found a movie in the archives that met all of their criteria. Fitz relinquished the popcorn and laid down on his part of the couch, resting his head in Jemma’s lap. He didn’t even complain when Daisy scrunched her fingers through his curls. The movie, however, did not get such consideration. “I’ve always wondered how everybody automatically knows the words to these songs,” he said as Gene Kelly and Donald O’Connor tapped their way through an elocution lesson.

“Oh, Fitz. It’s make-believe.”

“That doesn’t make me any less curious. Make-believe or not, it should be based on reality, shouldn’t it? You don’t see Daisy bursting into song randomly, with—with Coulson joining in!”

“No, but I would pay good money to,” Daisy said.

“I took two years of tap-dancing lessons as a kid,” Coulson said, making all three of them jump as he crossed behind the couch to collect a beer from the fridge. He settled on one of the overstuffed chairs and pointed his beer at the tap-dancing on screen. “I was not up to this level, however.”

“Maybe you should practice,” Daisy said. “I’ve heard dancing’s a good way to keep in shape for older people.”

Coulson smiled benignly at her. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

Boy was she going to pay for that crack later, Daisy could tell. But it was worth it, for the way she could feel Jemma giggling next to her. As the movie played on, other members of various teams drifted in and grabbed beers and snacks, settling on comfortable surfaces to watch Don Lockwood and Kathy Seldon fall in love.

It was, Daisy decided, a pretty good start to what was rapidly becoming her favorite holiday.

~ * ~ * ~

**_Week Fourteen_ **

The first trimester of pregnancy had raged through Jemma, bestowing bouts of morning sickness at all hours of the day, coloring in sunken circles beneath her eyes, and making her generally testy and out of sorts. Returning to earth, being around people, and dealing with the new gravity after months of harsh survival hadn’t helped, no doubt. She’d grown snappish with Fitz and Daisy above all else, grumbling over the jasmine lotion Daisy used and reminding Fitz to change his razor blade when it had gotten too old. Her sense of smell grew so strong that Daisy made it a policy never to drop by the lab on her way back from working out. The first time she’d tried, Jemma had raced for the bathroom, looking distinctly greener than any human should.

Honestly, Daisy was learning so much about pregnancy, but only from observing Jemma or from reading the books. Her friend never brought up her condition unprompted. When others mentioned it, she changed the subject. Normally Jemma shared everything with her friend, down to the very mundane details, but spending time on the deathworld had made Jemma a complete sphinx.

Which was why Daisy was surprised to stroll into the lab to raid Fitz’s stash of dwarves for a recon op and see Jemma standing in front of the full length mirror in the back. She’d pulled her shirt up to reveal the slightly round slope of her abdomen. Her head tilted, a thoughtful frown in place. It turned to shock as she looked in the mirror and saw Daisy approaching. She whirled.

“Daisy! Hi, I was just—”

“I do that when I’ve had a really big burrito.” Daisy pulled down the pelican case of drones from the shelf.  “Not the same, I know.”

“Not quite.” Jemma eyed her as Daisy began to critically inspect the dwarves. “He hates that you get into his stuff, you know.”

“That’s half the point. So, how’s the bump?”

“Rather bumpy, I’m afraid.” Jemma frowned.

“Looks about average for this far along.” Daisy pulled out a dwarf and inspected it. After leaving behind the Disney naming scheme, Fitz had gone on to one of those nerdy books that Daisy hadn’t read. She wasn’t sure who ‘Thorin’ was, but he looked like a pretty good dwarf.

She looked up to see Jemma gawking at her, and immediately wanted to make sure her hair wasn’t sticking up or something. “What?” she asked.

Jemma’s mouth snapped shut.  “N-nothing. I just hadn’t realized you’d done the research.”

“I Google-image searched baby bumps, Simmons, it’s not a big deal. And,” she eyed Thorin’s line of sight and tested its weight, “all the baby books had, like, these calendars about what happens when. This is week fourteen?”

Jemma nodded.

“Cool. That’s when facial muscles start moving, I think. I bet Simmons Junior’s already learning to frown at whatever Fitz says.”

“You think it’s a boy?”

“I think it’s a blob.” Daisy set Thorin back in its case and tucked that under her arm. She skirted around the table and laid a hand on Jemma’s shoulder since her friend still looked uncertain. “But given that the DNA swimming around in that thing belongs half to you and half to a literal astronaut, it’s a very, very smart blob. And a lucky one.”

“There are actually several studies that link intelligence not to genetics but to—”

Daisy made a blah-blah-blah hand gesture. “You can quote all the studies you like at me, but I highly doubt Simmons Junior’s going to be the kid eating paste in the corner in kindergarten.”

“Eating paste could be a sign of curiosity, I’ll have you know.”

Daisy raised her eyebrows, but Jemma didn’t disclose any further details. “All righty then,” she said, heading for the door. “On that note, I’m going to take my purloined dwarf before Fitz catches me.”

“Hey, Daisy?” Jemma’s hesitant voice stopped her in her tracks and made her swivel in place. Jemma twisted her hands together. “I don’t suppose you’re free tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes, unless there’s an emergency. Why? Did you need something?”

Jemma took a deep breath. “I have an appointment and I was wondering if you might tag along? Fitz went to the first one with me, but he started arguing with the doctor and it was a bit of a nightmare, actually. It’s off-site, but it’s not far, and it won’t take long, I swear, you can come right back. You’d be doing me such a big favor—”

“Simmons—Jemma.” Daisy smiled. “Of course I’ll go with you. Come get me when you need to leave, okay?”

“Will do. Thanks, Daisy.”

“Anytime,” Daisy said. She glanced over at the unmistakable sound of Fitz’s footsteps approaching the lab. “Crap, that’s my cue. See you tomorrow!”

And ignoring Fitz’s “Wha—hey!” she scampered out of the lab with her stolen tech.

~ * ~ * ~

“Fitz is very cross with you,” Jemma said as Daisy adjusted the height on the little wheely stool they’d given her while they waited for the doctor to join them.

Daisy plopped down. “If he stopped being a perfectionist and released the super-useful tech that’s going to teach us all about what nefarious schemes the ATCU is doing, he’d live a much happier life. He holds onto those things forever.”

“He’s a bit fussy, yes, but that’s hardly—”

“We need that stuff, Simmons,” Daisy said.

Jemma held up her hands in an ‘I’m staying out of this’ gesture. “I’ll let you two work it out.”

“He’ll come around.” Daisy poked around the little table behind the ultrasound machine, grinning when Jemma waspishly slapped her hand away. “You never showed the pictures from your first ultrasound. It didn’t look like a squirrel, did it?”

“No, I can assure you, it did not look like a squirrel because there wasn’t a clear shot of the baby then. And I know what you’re doing.” Jemma took a deep breath and scooted back so she was sitting up on the hospital bed. “I appreciate it, but there’s no need to try to misbehave and distract me from my nerves. I’ve accepted my lot in life and that this child is coming.”

Daisy, about to reach out and pick up the wand, abruptly drew her hand back. “Um, yes, that’s exactly what I was doing,” she said, hoping the lie didn’t sound as fake to Jemma as it did to her.

A brief knock on the door made them look over, and Dr. Collins stepped in. Or at least, Daisy assumed that was Dr. Collins. Jemma had rambled on about her OB/GYN all the way over to the clinic, mentioning that she looked like a shield-maiden, and Daisy completely understood. Even though she wore pressed trousers and a crisp shirt under her lab coat, Dr. Collins could have joined Lady Sif in battle and Daisy wouldn’t have even blinked. She stood up when Jemma introduced her and immediately felt dwarfed.

“I’m here as a friend, honorary aunt, that sort of thing,” Daisy said, sitting down as Dr. Collins crossed to the stool on the other side of the hospital bed.

“Dr. Fitz wasn’t able to make it? I did look forward to another lively debate.” Dr. Collins logged into the computer.

“Fitz won’t be back until he promises to be on his best behavior,” Jemma said with a fond eye-roll. “Daisy’s been through a lot with me. You can speak frankly in front of her. She won’t be nearly as grossed out as Fitz.”

“Sure I will be, I’ll just hide it better,” Daisy said. She stayed quiet during the routine parts of the check-up, while Jemma answered questions and had her blood pressure checked. When Dr. Collins drew blood, Daisy merely tilted her head at Jemma. ‘Payback,’ she mouthed at her friend.

Jemma stuck her tongue out at her.

The conversation grew too scientific for Daisy to follow, so she spaced out. Was it always like that when doctors examined other doctors? If she hadn’t been exposed to years of Fitz and Jemma talking about science-y things way over her head, Daisy would’ve been intimidated. Now she studied the seriously outdated computer that ran the ultrasound machine. It’d take her about thirty seconds to hack it, she decided, if she was feeling slow.

She jolted and brought her attention back to the present when Jemma laid back on the bed. “Huh?”

“She’s doing the ultrasound now,” Jemma said. She correctly pegged the source of Daisy’s distraction when she informed the doctor, “Daisy’s the smartest computer person I know. She’s just brilliant at all computers. She was admiring your system, I think.”

More like cringing at it, but she let Jemma have that. She wheeled herself closer. “Time for the money shot? The books said the sex could be determined this week, maybe?”

“It’s possible, but the position of the fetus might make that difficult.” Dr. Collins gave them both a smile. “Some babies are shy about that sort of thing. You might not know until the day of the delivery. In addition, fourteen weeks is a little early to tell. We can confirm better at twenty weeks.”

“Well,” Jemma said with one of those forced smiles, “it’ll be an excellent surprise, whatever we discover.”

“You can paint the nursery gender-neutral colors. What do they put in nurseries? Baby ducks?” Daisy asked.

“Fitz has already insisted on monkeys.”

Daisy conceded to that with a thoughtful tilt of the head, surprised that she’d already discussed it with Fitz. But it made sense: Jemma would have to find a place off-base soon so she could start nesting, or whatever. That sucked. Daisy would miss being two doors down from her best friend. But also with Ward still out there plotting revenge, it wasn’t exactly safe to move off base yet, so maybe she wouldn’t have to worry about it for a while after all.

But Daisy didn’t want to think about Ward, so she said, “Monkeys would be cute.”

“I’m considering my options.” Jemma grimaced as the gel was applied to her abdomen. To Dr. Collins, she said, “Fitz has always wanted a Capuchin monkey.”

“It’s kind of a thing with him,” Daisy agreed, watching the image on the screen shift between blurry black lines and equally blurry gray lines. “How long does it take for—ooh.”

The lines on the screen gave way to a grainy ultrasound of an impossibly tiny fetus in the middle of the screen. Daisy heard Jemma’s gasp and felt something punch through her chest, but in a good way. Unconsciously, she leaned forward to get a better look. Online, the sonograms had looked vaguely like creepy little octopuses. Here she could actually see the line of a face, an upturned nose and chin. The belly was almost comically distended, the little legs curled up. Not so much a blob, but a minuscule and perfect human.

“And there’s your baby,” Dr. Collins said, typing something into the keyboard with her free hand as she continued to move the ultrasound wand over Jemma’s abdomen. Measurements began to list out on the screen. “Little easier to get a clear shot this time, I think. Now let’s see if we can get a heartbeat.”

Daisy’s hand hurt. Looking down, she realized that Jemma had grabbed it at some point, linking their fingers together and squeezing hard. She had a look on her face that was impossible to decipher, her eyes glued to the screen.

“Aha,” Dr. Collins said, and an EKG line began to beep at the bottom of the screen. She hit a button on the keyboard. “Sounds like a good, strong heartbeat to me. At this point in time, Dr. Simmons, we don’t have any reason to believe there’s anything but a very healthy fetus in there. If you look here, you can see the fingers…” She began to point out parts of the sonogram, endlessly patient as she answered Daisy’s questions.

Jemma remained silent, clutching Daisy’s hand. She reached out with her free hand, wonderingly brushing her the tips of her fingers over the moving image of the fetus. Then she blinked and seemed to snap herself out of the spell. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, I’ve smudged up your screen—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dr. Collins handed her a tissue, which she used to dab at her eyes. Jemma started and looked down at her hand, as though surprised to find it holding Daisy’s. Daisy merely squeezed reassuringly, not letting go.

Dr. Collins smiled at them, glancing down at the handholding briefly. “I’ll just print you off a copy, if you don’t have any other questions? Do you want a copy, too?”

“Uh, sure,” Daisy said. “I’ll consider it the start of my career as one of those people who carries around wallet photos.” She couldn’t wait to text it to May, actually.

Ten minutes later, she climbed into the driver’s seat of the borrowed vehicle—mercifully one of their SUVs without their logo on it, as that would look super conspicuous at the doctor’s office—and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. Jemma had been eerily quiet. She sat in the passenger seat, one hand resting on her abdomen and the other holding the folder of papers Dr. Collins had given her, lost in thought.

Daisy nudged her. “Wanna play hooky for a bit? We could go get milkshakes.”

As she’d expected, that drew Jemma from her reverie. “You heard her in there, I’m supposed to be practicing healthy eating habits. Milkshakes are nothing but sugar—”

“And deliciousness. Think of it as a good source of calcium or something. She said you’re healthy, the baby seems healthy. Why not cut loose a little?”

Jemma looked tempted.

Daisy nudged her again. “Do you know how rare it is to get out of the base these days? Let’s go be irresponsible for, like, half an hour before we head back.”

“You’re such a bad influence.” Jemma reached over and brushed some of Daisy’s hair back. Must be a pregnancy thing, Daisy determined. Like nesting, or something. Jemma had never been this hands on with her before. “But yes. Let’s go get milkshakes. But you’ll have to bring one back for Fitz, too, to apologize for stealing Thorin.”

“Fair,” Daisy decided, and started the ignition. 


	3. Week Fifteen

When asked about Christmas, Daisy would have answered that she planned to spend the holiday on the couch, eating Chinese food with Coulson. “As is the way of my people,” he’d told her the year before. Daisy had never been big on Christmas. At St. Agnes, it had just been a stark reminder that none of them had had families that wanted them. Afterward, it had been even worse. She’d always done her best to avoid everything associated with it: the manic and intense shopping, the travel, the family get-togethers, singing carols, Christmas trees, all of it.

And yet, here she was, wheeling her luggage through a train station crowded train station in Sheffield the day before Christmas. They’d hopped a train from London so the Simmons family wouldn’t get suspicious and Jemma had spent the train ride pointing out landmarks and points of interest, reminiscing with Fitz about all of their trips home from the Academy, and generally glowing with excitement. It had been a little difficult to take her eyes off of Jemma and look at whatever she was pointing out, though Daisy didn’t plan on telling her that. She wasn’t even sure she should be there with them, but Coulson and Jemma had insisted.

With Coulson, it had been orders. Ward was still at large, making it unsafe for Fitz or Jemma to visit family alone. Since Daisy didn’t exactly have family that she could plausibly visit, the assignment made sense. She wouldn’t be taking any other agents away from their families.

Jemma saw it differently.

“I’m officially inviting you,” she’d said, neatly folding one of Daisy’s shirts and placing it in her suitcase the night before. She’d insisted on helping Daisy pack, possibly because she knew Daisy would just wait until the last minute and throw random things into a duffel. “Even though Coulson says you’re going along as protection, you’ll be a guest. My mum’s been asking about you for ages.”

“You told your mom about me?” Daisy had asked, handing her another shirt.

“Of course I did. I did say that you work in IT since they don’t know about what we really do, but I mentioned how brilliant you are, and how we’ve been such great friends. She’s excited to meet you.”

“I don’t have, um, gifts or anything for them.”

“Don’t worry about that, they’re not expecting anything like that. You’ll be a guest. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Now, walking through the Sheffield train station, Daisy wasn’t entirely convinced. She was already determined to spend the next week not letting on that a family Christmas was a new thing for her so she wouldn’t get any of those “Poor Orphan Skye” reactions she’d always hated. No big deal.

A tall man stood at the end of the platform, peering through the crowd. That would be Jack, Daisy determined as Jemma immediately raced up and hugged him. Fitz hurried up to shake his hand, talking too fast for Daisy to understand, and she brought up the rear a little more slowly.

Jemma lit up when she spotted her. “Jack, you have to come meet her, this is Daisy Johnson, my friend from work. And Daisy, my little brother Jack.”

Daisy made a point of craning her neck to look up at him, and Jack grinned. “I’ve been taller than her for years, but she refuses to call me anything else. A pleasure. Jack Simmons.”

“Daisy.” She shook his hand. He had the same eyebrows and freckles as his sister, but his hair was shock-white blond. “Hi. Sim—Jemma’s told me a lot about you.”

“That I’m charming and got all of the good looks for this generation? I would hope so.” He offered to take her bag, but Daisy inclined her head at Jemma’s bag. Without missing a beat, he scooped that up instead.

“Enjoy the free labor,” Daisy said as Jemma rolled her eyes at both of them and pointed out that she was still very much capable of carrying her own bag. “I may not have brothers, but even I know that’s what they’re for.”

After stowing their luggage in the trunk—“It’s called the boot, you’re in England now,” Fitz told her irritably, ducking away when Daisy tried to flick his ear—they piled into Jack’s car. Jemma was bursting with questions, chattering at her brother, though she stopped occasionally to point at things outside to Daisy, with asides from Fitz. She was in proper big sister mode, scolding and teasing and batting at Jack’s man-bun all at once.

As for Jack, Daisy hadn’t been exactly sure what she’d been expecting. She’d been anticipating, what, a boy version of Simmons? Jemma’s cardigans and sensible shoes, but male? Daisy glanced at Fitz next to her in the backseat, looking down at his cardigan and his hiking shoes, and kind of wanted to kick herself. She really had been imagining basically Fitz with Jemma’s face.

Instead Jack teased Jemma about her geeky science and argued clubs with Fitz. It took Daisy forever to realize that they were talking about soccer and not afterschool programs, and she’d only cottoned on because Hunter always coopted the den TV for his games that he insisted were, “Football, love, none of that soccer business in here.” And when Jack asked Daisy about where she was from and if she liked working with his egghead of a sister, he winked at her. Definitely flirting.

“Oh, don’t even start, you’re not her type,” Jemma said, rolling her eyes at him.

“I can adapt. You mentioned your friend was cute, but I think you undersold it a bit.”

“Aw, you think I’m cute?” Daisy asked Jemma, who gave her that wildly patient ‘you’re being ridiculous’ look that she’d perfected over the years, though she did look a bit pink. To Jack, Daisy said, “She has a point, though. You do seem far too well-adjusted to be my type.”

“I’ll live in eternal sorrow at that.” He grinned cheekily and turned the car into the drive of a picturesque little house. Not quite suburbs, but not farmhouse rural either. Daisy gave the place a once-over, automatically locating all egress points and escape routes the way May had trained her. Jemma had grown up here, in this idyllic little home with a sloping, waist-height stone wall encircling the property. It was about as far from the institutional walls of St. Agnes as she could get all the way down to the three cats drowsing on the front porch.

“Those two are Cassiopeia and…Scorpius, I think? He’s new. But this old man is Leo Minor,” Jemma said as Daisy crouched to offer her fingers for sniffing. Jemma plucked up a gigantic gray cat, who seemed to tolerate the affection for only a few seconds before letting out a yawn.

“Leo Mi…Leo like Fitz? You named a cat after Fitz?”

“No, she didn’t because my name is Leopold,” Fitz said, stressing the second syllable. He gave them a disgruntled look even as he scratched beneath Leo Minor’s chin. “I was not named for the constellation, therefore—”

“I named him after Fitz,” Jemma said. “And the constellation, too, of course. But they look just alike, you see?” She held the cat out next to Fitz.

Daisy couldn’t deny that both cat and scientist wore the same annoyed expression. “It’s uncanny,” she agreed.

“Unbelievable,” Fitz said to the both of them, taking the cat from Jemma and walking into the house.

“I thought annoying him was my job,” Daisy said.

“You don’t think I’d let you have all the fun, do you? Leo Minor loves him.” Jemma took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, and Daisy realized she wasn’t alone in being nervous. She reached out and squeezed her friend’s hand, and Jemma smiled back at her.

“You two just going to stand around in the cold all day?” Jack asked, walking by with their luggage. He stepped into the house. “Oi, Mum. Dad! Jemma’s home.”

“After you,” Daisy said, holding the door open for her friend.

Inside was just as cozy and lived in as the exterior promised, and Daisy found herself pulled through a foyer and into a kitchen, where Mr. Simmons was in the middle of scrambling together something called a full English. Daisy found out in short time that meant breakfast, even though it was well after noon, and for some reason, tinned tomatoes and beans were included. Since neither Jemma nor Fitz seemed to find anything strange about this, Daisy tucked in.

Later, she carried her impressions of the Simmons family up to Jemma’s childhood bedroom with her during the tour of the house. Craig Simmons had slapped Fitz on the back and given him a hearty handshake before greeting Daisy almost the same way and insisting that she call him Craig, as the only people who called him Mr. Simmons were his students and Daisy looked a trifle too old to be one of those. She’d seen the worry lines and then the relief when Jemma had hugged him.

Mrs. Simmons had given Daisy just as crushing a hug as either Fitz or Jemma. She’d offered them tea, which Daisy had accepted with a defeated ‘when in Rome’ feeling, and had immediately begun asking them about their trip, and how was Daisy finding England, was this her first time here, and you’re not still having trouble with the morning sickness, are you, Jems, your color’s looking good. Jemma had protested that they’d just arrived, couldn’t she wait five minutes before being nosy, but it had made Daisy laugh.

She’d be bunking with Jemma for the stay. Jemma had tried to get her to take the bed, but Daisy had countered that no way in hell was she kicking a pregnant lady out of her childhood bed. So Daisy had an air mattress in the middle of the floor.

“I know, I know,” Jemma said as she ushered Daisy inside. “It’s childish and silly. I’ve been after Mum and Dad to turn it into a proper guest bedroom for ages, but they’ve insisted—”

“It’s lovely,” Daisy said, absolutely meaning it. Jemma’s room was _precisely_ how she would have imagined it. The attic room had a little reading nook and a child-sized desk, the furniture painted a prim white. Among the old toys were scientific texts with words too long for Daisy to pronounce. A corkboard in the corner still had equations pinned to it, mixed with old birthday cards and pictures of Jemma, her family, and even of Fitz, looking even more baby-faced and grumpier than ever. The bed was built into a little alcove, with glow-in-the-dark stars glued all over the ceiling. Daisy would put good money that those were constellations in the patterns, probably sharing names with the cats running around.

Jemma turned a bit pink around the cheeks. “I’m glad you think so, even if I feel a bit silly.”

“Beats the bed in the room I shared with three other girls at St. Agnes,” Daisy said, keeping her tone light. She put her backpack on the mattress and wandered over to look at the corkboard. The handwriting definitely belonged to Jemma, though it was considerably larger and loopier. Daisy turned one of the pages over and gawked at the date. “You wrote this when you were eleven? I don’t even know what half of these symbols mean.”

“I did have two PhDs by the time I was seventeen,” Jemma said, fidgeting. Daisy pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of tiny Fitz and Jemma in their Academy shirts. “Why are you doing that?”

“First, saving this for my own personal collection, duh,” Daisy said, thumbs flying over the keyboard. “And secondly, I’m texting this to Bobbi right away because no way should she live without this picture in her life. Look at his cheeks!”

“Fitz may have a point about us being mean to him,” Jemma said, unzipping her suitcase.

“He’s been so snooty to me all day. ‘No, Daisy, it’s a car park, it’s not a parking lot.’” She sent the text to Bobbi and followed it up with a second text to Coulson, letting him know they’d arrived and she hadn’t spotted any trouble. Conscience struck when Jemma sighed. “All right, all right. I’ll try to be nicer to him. Since it’s Christmas and all.”

“Thank you. He’s frustrated because—”

“The portal stuff,” Daisy said, nodding. “I know. I know how he gets. From the looks of things, he visits here a lot, huh?”

“He used to come back on breaks with me since his mum always takes her trips during the holidays. Mum and Dad, they’ve always let Jack and me have friends over, running wild all over the place. Not that I really had many friends until Fitz. Jack, on the other hand, has too many friends to remember. You’ll likely meet more than a few of them.” Jemma unpacked her clothes into the dresser, waving that she’d left a couple of drawers for Daisy. “And I’m sorry about him flirting, by the way. I’ll tell him to stop bothering you.”

“Why? He’s harmless. And kinda cute.”

“My brother? Blech.”

Daisy laughed. “You two look a lot alike, you know.”

“We actually favored each other more when we were kids.” Jemma’s voice broke, and Daisy’s head jerked up. But her friend waved her off, even as she pressed her fingers to her closed eyelids. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll get it under control. But it’s just—it’s been nearly a year since I’ve seen them, and they have _no_ idea about Maveth and how close I was to never coming back, and they’re so happy and…”

She sat on the edge of the bed and began to cry in earnest. Daisy glanced around the room, looking for tissues. Seeing none, she dug in her own luggage until she produced the little travel pack she kept, which she pushed gently into Jemma’s hands. Wordlessly, she sat on the bed and let her friend cry. She wasn’t entirely sure Jemma had even slept the night before, but they’d been up at the before dawn. The stress of traveling to London in the quinjet and taking the train north likely hadn’t helped. So Daisy sat quietly, simply rubbing her hand over Jemma’s back as she cried. It didn’t surprise her that Jemma eventually curled up, her sobs finally dying away.

“Your mom suggested you should take a nap,” Daisy said. “Why don’t you take her up on it? I’ll go downstairs and let you get some sleep.”

Jemma lifted her head. “You’re my guest, I should be showing you around—”

“Please, it’s obvious Fitz is just as much a member of the Family Simmons as you are. If I run into trouble, I’ll bug him. Sleep. I’m sure Blob will appreciate it.”

Jemma’s eyes drifted closed. “Blob is an awful name to saddle a child with. Even an unborn one.”

“So back to Simmons Junior it is.” Daisy eased herself off of the bed and pulled off her sweater, exchanging it for one Jemma hadn’t cried into. It felt a little awkward wandering down without the social shielding Jemma provided, but she _was_ spending a week at the Simmons homestead and she couldn’t monopolize Jemma’s time. She peeked in the den and saw Jack, Fitz, and Craig watching TV and arguing about something. Daisy decided to back out of that one and checked in the kitchen instead, where Jemma’s mother had set up with a laptop and several magazines, reading glasses perched on the end of her nose.

“Oh, hello. Did Jems decide on a nap after all?”

“The flight wore her out,” Daisy lied. “And I think maybe the hormones got to her a bit. Childhood home and all.”

“I broke down crying at the drop of a hat while pregnant with both her and Jack,” Nora said. “Poor Craig had no idea what to do with me half the time. I remember watching a chat show sobbing _and_ laughing, and Craig thought I’d gone absolutely mad.”

“I don’t think it’s gotten quite that bad for Jemma yet,” Daisy said. “But I’ll keep an eye out.”

“I’m sure she appreciates that,” Nora said. She retrieved a plate of cookies—biscuits—from the counter and set them on the table before bringing the kettle over. Tea really was a way of life in this house, Daisy was beginning to discover. Maybe by the end of the trip, she’d even like it. “Jemma says you’re absolutely brilliant with computers. You work in the IT department?”

“Er, yeah. I keep things running. Fitz and S—Jemma are the brilliant ones, though.”

“Lord, when they get going, I only understand one word in eight.” Nora settled in at the table. She had an open, friendly face, and Jemma’s eyes. “Craig and I aren’t certain where she gets her brains from. He’s a schoolteacher from a family of accountants and my folk are a little more free-spirited in their thinking. Not a lot of scientists or mathematicians in the lot.”

“At some point, I just assume it’s magic. Don’t tell her that, though, I’ll get a lecture.” Daisy glanced down at the feeling of something rubbing against her ankle. Leo Minor looked at her so pitifully that she scooped him up. She scritched behind his ears, smiling when he began to not so much purr as actually rumble. The vibrations traveled up her arms, tickling the edges of her powers. She wondered what Coulson would say to having a cat on base. “She talks about this place a lot, and I can see why. It’s a lovely home.”

“Thank you.” Nora looked as though she were about to say something, but seemed to change her mind. “You’ll have to forgive the curiosity, as you’re the first friend besides Fitz that Jemma’s brought home. Every time we call, it’s been ‘Skye this’ or ‘Daisy that.’ It took me awhile to put together that they were one and the same.”

“Oh, right,” Daisy said. “The name change. I guess it’s a little complicated. I…I found my birth parents earlier this year and learned my birth name, so it made sense to switch.”

Nora squeezed Daisy’s wrist, reassuringly, in a move that was so like Jemma it almost took her breath away. “Daisy’s a lovely name. I’ve always liked the flower names. I’ve got an Aunt Poppy, actually, and my cousin’s Rose. Names are so important, don’t you think?”

Daisy squinted. “Mrs. Simmons, are you digging to find out if she’s picked out names yet?”

Nora laughed. “She said you were quick on your feet. Well? Has she?”

“She’s got it locked up tighter than Fort Knox,” Daisy said, the words spilling out. She obliged Leo Minor by scratching behind his ears. “It’s driving me nuts, but she won’t say a word.”

“That does sound like my daughter.” Nora sipped her tea and leaned in, conspiratorially. “So no hints on the gender, either?”

“None, but she’s not keeping it a secret. The baby wasn’t cooperating for pictures during the ultrasound. I mean, not that I’d blab, but there’s nothing _to_ blab, so I’m not being tested, thankfully.”

“Oh, fine,” Nora said. “You must have other gossip, then. The bloke, what was he really like? Did you meet him?”

Daisy shook her head. “But from what I’ve gathered, he wa—he’s very handsome. So if you were worried about less-than-attractive grandbabies, you’re probably fine.”

Nora laughed. “Oh, I like you. And of course I wasn’t worried about that. But she’s been a bit of an enigma lately—”

“That’s exactly what I’ve thought!”

“—and it’s so nice to gossip a bit.”

“Isn’t it?” Daisy said. She leaned over, running her hand down Leo Minor’s back. “I’m willing to trade stories for blackmail material against Jemma for the next time she shames me about eating a burger.”

“Deal,” Nora said, her eyes twinkling.

When Jemma came downstairs over an hour later, she found her friend and her mother laughing, the cat still purring away contentedly in Daisy’s lap, and the tea in Daisy’s mug completely gone.

~ * ~ * ~

Christmas passed in a blur of almost over-the-top cheer from Jemma, who’d managed to procure matching sweaters for Fitz, Daisy, and herself even with the lack of notice about their holiday plans (Daisy suspected she might have already had the sweaters—“Jumpers, Daisy, they’re jumpers”— and had been waiting for an opportunity to deploy them). The gift exchange was followed by lunch where one of the cats made off with half of the roast, causing general chaos as Jack and Fitz tried to catch the beast. Jack introduced Daisy to the concept of Christmas crackers, which led to them wearing ridiculous green paper crowns for most of the day. They went for a walk with Jemma and Fitz, who’d packed one of his dwarves and spent the entire outing making it dive-bomb Daisy while he and Jemma giggled.

If Jack hadn’t been there, Daisy would have quaked the drone from the sky. But as Jemma’s family didn’t know she was inhuman, and she didn’t plan to share, she merely swiped ineffectively at the drone and laughed at Jack’s antics as he tried to protect her. Secretly, she planned her revenge.

She’d been waiting for the subject of inhumans to come up. It didn’t until Christmas night, when the news report mentioned a suspected inhuman sighting had turned out to be a giant hoax during the Christmas evening broadcast.

“That’s your research, isn’t it?” Jack asked Jemma, who was helping him with the dishes. “Studying inhumans and how they work. Have you actually met one yet?”

Fitz, noodling with a drone at the table, looked up and locked eyes with Daisy.

“They keep us in the lab a lot of the time,” Jemma said. “And you know I’m not allowed to talk about my research. It’s highly classified and mostly theoretical anyway.”

“That’s too bad,” Jack said.

Daisy cleared her throat. “What do you mean?”

Jack shrugged and dunked his hands back into the soapy water. “It’d be neat to meet an inhuman, that’s all. You’ve got Thor popping up in Greenwich, of all places, saving the whole bloody world. And now we’ve got more and more people like Thor around? Makes you curious.”

“Thor’s a god, not an inhuman, I must point out,” Jemma said.

“I heard there was one that could lift an entire car and just chuck it.” Jack handed his sister a dish. “What must it be like, to have that much power and still go about your day? What kind of change would that be?”

“For one, you switch your coffee from regular to decaf,” Fitz said in a light voice. “Otherwise you might get a wee bit _jittery_.”

Since Jack was rinsing a dish, Daisy stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re not afraid of them?” she asked Jack.

“Nah,” Jack said, like it was just that simple. And to him, maybe it was. Where Jemma could be a little uptight at times, her brother was the epitome of relaxed. Potentially too relaxed, really. Daisy had no idea how he would even handle the situations they faced almost daily.

“I’m sure you’ll meet one someday,” Jemma said, sharing a long look with Daisy. They looked away and the subject was dropped.

~ * ~ * ~

The day after Christmas was apparently a holiday in its own right. No lazing about indoors for the Simmons family, as Daisy found herself bundled up for the cold and tagging along to cheer Nora and Craig as they jogged in a local race for charity.  Several of Jack’s friends showed up, most of them angling for an introduction to Daisy, which made Fitz laugh and Jemma scowl. After they’d wandered off with Jack to head to the local pub for a pint, Daisy nudged Jemma. “What’s the matter? You look annoyed.”

“I’m not annoyed, of course I’m not annoyed. What? I’m not!” Jemma wrinkled her nose. “But they were laying it on a bit thick, weren’t they? I mean, Bertie actually kissed your hand.”

“Since he willingly goes by Bertie, I feel like he probably doesn’t have much else going for him, so I threw him a bone. What’s the harm? It’s a bit of flirting, Simmons, it’s not a marriage contract.”

But Jemma continued to scowl. “You’re practically a taken woman. Don’t you have that mutual pining thing going on with Mr. Electricity?”

“Careful, Jem, you sound jealous,” Fitz said without looking away from the race.

“Oh, Fitz, don’t be ridiculous. Why would I be jealous?”

Daisy, on the other hand, frowned at the mention of Lincoln. She hadn’t called him, she realized. Christmas had passed and she hadn’t even thought of him once. Sure, he was on the run, but usually they called to check in, their silences saying just as much as their words. Immediately, guilt flooded through her. She’d enjoyed herself with a full family Christmas while he was out there, probably not eating well, on the run from all and sundry.

But then, he hadn’t called her either, had he?

She tuned back into the conversation, which had become full force bickering. “I dunno,” Fitz was saying, “maybe it’s the hormones?”

Daisy heard the warning bells go off even as Jemma’s eyes turned absolutely black with fury. Thinking quickly, she threw an arm around both of her friends and pulled them close. “Are we really arguing on the one vacation we get this year?” she asked.  To annoy Fitz, she gave him a smacking kiss on the side of the head, and automatically did the same to Jemma, who went weirdly still under her arm. “C’mon, guys, it’s Christmas.”

“It’s Boxing Day,” they corrected her in unison.

“Close enough.” But the crisis of a full Fitzsimmons meltdown seemed to have been averted, mercifully enough.

After the race finished, Daisy and Jemma left Fitz at the pub and went out to lunch with Nora. Lunch stretched out into a bit of shopping after Jemma, turning down an offer of finishing Daisy’s chips, groaned that her pants were tight enough lately, thanks very much. It had taken both Nora and Daisy to convince her that perhaps it was time to look into purchasing maternity clothing.

“It’s such a waste,” she said two hours later, as they poked through the racks of a clothing store. “After the baby’s born, this will be absolutely useless. I’ll never wear it again. Plus, most of it is downright hideous. Look at this.”

She yanked a green dress off the rack and brandished it at Daisy, accusingly.

“The pattern’s…unfortunate,” Daisy said, “but you could make it work.”

Jemma narrowed her eyes at Daisy. “I feel like this might be a comment on my fashion choices.”

“Of course it isn’t.” Nora calmly placed the dress back on the rack. “And the clothing could be put into storage should you choose to decide to have another child.”

Jemma’s face went absolutely white. “ _Another_ one? I didn’t even plan for this one in the first place!”

Nora gave her a serene smile. “Who knows? You might have this child and discover you want another. Intentionally, even. Your father and I only had one child in mind. You were such a perfect angel that we decided to have another, and we got Jack out of the bargain.” She wandered over to look at stand full of professional trousers.

Jemma jerked Daisy close. “Please kill me,” she whispered.

Daisy laughed and patted her on the shoulder. “There’s got to be something in here that’s not horrible.”

“I doubt it.” Jemma gave her one last dark look when Nora called her name, and walked off to join her mother.

Daisy stayed where she was, poking through a rack full of dresses. Her phone buzzed, so she pulled it out of her pocket, eyebrows going up at Coulson’s face on her screen. “Coulson, hey! How’s it going? Got a Chinese food hangover?”

“Get out of there right now,” Coulson said.

Daisy snapped to attention, every muscle tensing. The bright and happy department store playing cheerful pop suddenly became something far more sinister. Automatically, she reached her hand to the small of her back, where she kept an icer hidden. “What’s the—”

“There you are! Finally.”

Every cell in Daisy’s body abruptly felt like it had been plunged into an ice bath. She stared in a mixture of horror and confusion as Grant Ward easily stepped through the racks of maternity clothing and gave her a giant, friendly smile. Like he had any right to be there, like he was happy to see her.

And the sickest part of it, she knew he was.

She hated that she’d frozen, even if it was only briefly. “Ah, ah, ah,” Ward said. He’d grown a goatee in the time they’d been apart. And he looked rugged, handsome, solid, all the things that had once made him seem trustworthy. “We’re in public, Skye. I wouldn’t.”

She caught the way his eyes cut to the left, and glanced that way herself. Ward hadn’t come alone. She made three Hydra goons, big ones capable of handling themselves in a fight, nicely spaced out among the women’s clothing department. One stood a few feet away from where Jemma and her mother were holding a debate over a shirt. All the saliva in Daisy’s mouth dried up.

_Shit, shit, shit_.

“Daisy. Daisy, are you there?” Coulson’s voice in her ear brought her back.

Ward merely crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. “Tell Coulson I say hello.”

“Ward’s here,” Daisy said, her voice steady. She could feel her pulse increasing, making the heat pool at the back of her neck.

When he held his hand out for the phone, she considered quaking him into oblivion. But she couldn’t take out Ward and his men before one of them would get to Jemma or Nora, not by herself. And she was in public, in view of every camera under the sun. Never mind that Nora had no idea that Daisy was an agent and inhuman, and Jemma would no doubt prefer it stay that way.

So she handed over the phone.

“Smart,” Ward said with a condescending little tilt of his head, like he still believed he was her SO. Putting the phone to his ear, he said, “Coulson, it’s been awhile. No, no, I don’t think I’ll be doing that, but I’m touched.”

Ward powered off the phone and removed the chip. He pulled out his own phone. On the screen, Daisy could see some kind of dark barroom, and in the center of it Jack and Fitz at a snooker table. The temperature dropped another ten degrees. “In case you think of trying anything funny,” he said.

“Go to hell.”

“You’ve already tried to send me there. It didn’t work out the way you planned, did it?”

“Can I help it if you’re a cockroach?”

“Skye. Skye, Skye, Skye. Always so full of _spirit_.” His smirk broadened. She gritted her teeth against the creepy-crawly feeling of nastiness that coated her skin whenever he was around. “Here’s what’s going to happen. So we don’t raise any suspicion, you’re going to go and introduce me to the nice lady with Dr. Simmons’ smile, and come up with an excuse for us to leave so that nobody gets suspicious.”

“And you really think Simmons is just going to go along with that?”

“She will if she wants to see the father of her child again.” Ward flashed the phone at her again, giving her another glimpse of the pub with Jack and Fitz. He thought the baby was Fitz’s, she realized. It took every bit of skill she’d learned at the poker table to keep the shock off of her face. And because of that, she was pretty sure her face remained blank, even seeing the outline of the man at the bar behind Fitz, his back to the camera as he enjoyed a pint.

“You’ve been watching us,” Daisy said.

“Of course I have. I’m never far, Skye.”

“Simmons will never go for this. Coulson knows you’re here. How exactly do you plan to get away with this?”

“Just do your part, and maybe all these nice people won’t have their day ruined, hmm?” He grabbed her arm and turned her around, steering her toward Jemma and her mother.

Daisy swallowed hard, eyeing the other three goons. One stood particularly close to a group of young girls, and it turned her stomach. She walked back to where Nora and Jemma were admiring a blazer, and cleared her throat.

Jemma’s eyes widened. They were lucky she hadn’t brought an icer, Daisy saw, for her expression immediately turned to stone and her fists clenched. “Ward!”

Daisy gestured at Jemma to stand down, keeping her hand by her side where Nora wouldn’t see it and get suspicious. “Look who just showed up out of the blue,” she said with a great deal of false cheer.

“Who’s this?” Nora asked, looking in confusion between Daisy and her daughter.

Ward put his arm around Daisy, extending his free hand to Nora. Every bit the jovial, confident conman that had tricked them for months. Anger burned under Daisy’s breastbone as Ward shook Nora’s hand. “Skye hasn’t talked about me? I’m Grant, her boyfriend.”

It took everything in Daisy’s power not to snort her opinion of that. Jemma practically vibrated with tension. She slid her gaze to the left, seemed to noticed one of the goons, and scanned the store. She locked eyes with Daisy and in the two seconds Nora shook Ward’s hand, they held a silent conversation.

“She’s never mentioned a boyfriend,” Nora said.

_Can you take him down_? Jemma’s eyes seemed to ask.

Daisy flicked a glance at the goons, then Nora, and raised an eyebrow slightly. Jemma’s expression settled into a frown.

“I’ve been upset with him,” Daisy said to Nora, putting on a false smile. “We fought right before I left.”

“But I’m here now,” Ward said, all smarm. “I simply couldn’t go another day without seeing my beloved Skye. And I know she’s missed me, too. Isn’t that right, babe?”

“You know it,” Daisy said.

Ward squeezed her arm, hard enough to hurt. “All this time apart and she doesn’t seem happy to see me.”

“Imagine that,” Jemma said.

Nora gave her daughter a baffled look at the flat tone. “You came all this way to Sheffield to surprise Daisy?”

Nora sounded far too suspicious for Ward’s liking, apparently. He squeezed her arm again, and Daisy did her best not to flinch. “That’s him,” she said. “King of romance. Do you mind if I steal this handsome fella for a bit? We can meet up with you later in the—does this place have a food court?”

“There’s a coffee shop next door, we were headed there afterward to meet Fitz and Jack,” Nora said.

“Oh, those two, they get into such trouble. I’m sure somebody has an eye on them,” Daisy said, not looking away from Jemma, whose eyes widened. From the way Ward tensed against her, he noticed. “We’ll meet you there in an hour?”

She tried to communicate with her eyes alone that Jemma should go along with it. Ward had always made it clear that while he valued Fitz and Jemma and even in some twisted way wanted their respect, they didn’t matter to him as much as Daisy and destroying SHIELD. Being one level removed from Jemma, Nora was worth a second thought in Ward’s mind, but nothing beyond that.

Daisy had to get him away from her at all costs.

“Before you go, I have to ask: why are you calling her Skye?” Nora asked, throwing a wrench in Daisy’s plans. “Daisy, do you truly know this man? He’s not…?”

“My psycho ex? Of course not.” The last thing they needed was Nora contacting the police. Or worse, provoking Ward into attacking. Not with all these innocent bystanders about. “He caught me by surprise, that’s all. No big deal. Right, honey?” Gagging internally, she kissed Ward’s cheek.

He gave Nora a charming look. “It’s nice that Skye—sorry, Daisy, I still have trouble adjusting, she’s just always been my bright Skye—has someone watching out for her. I promise you, I’m harmless.”

“We’ll catch up with you at the coffee shop,” Daisy said. “Text me when you’re ready to go, yeah?”

She hugged Jemma, keeping her hands in sight for the goons and for Ward’s benefit. “Three, eight, twelve o’clock,” she whispered, naming the locations of the goons, and stepped back.

They left Nora and Jemma behind, Ward’s arm going around her again. “I said not to make it suspicious,” he muttered.

“Not my fault my boyfriend doesn’t even know my damn name.” Two of the men followed them, and one lingered near Jemma and Nora. Extra insurance, Daisy figured, in addition to what they thought they had on Fitz and Jack in the pub. She gritted her teeth. “What do you want, Ward?”

“I want Coulson to suffer. No better way to do that than to take you away from him.”

“This isn’t repressed jealousy over not being Director’s Pet, is it? You might’ve had a shot at that title if you hadn’t turned psychotic and betrayed us all.” Daisy looked around for any help, any weapons, as they walked past household appliances and kitchenware. “Which is kind of ironic, given how much _Apt Pupil_ turned out to be your thing.”

“Clever,” Ward said.

“Where have you been all these months, anyway? Usually you’re much more annoying, but SHIELD hasn’t heard a peep.”

“I was holding off on attacking you out of respect for the baby, of course. But now that I know it’s not yours—”

“Wait, how did you even know and _why_ would you ever think it was mine?”

Ward let her go to pull out a folded up sheet. The fold lines had gone white and spider-cracked with age and use, which turned her stomach. He must have carried this with him all the time. Daisy recognized the bookstore, the beanie, and the baby books she was loading in the bag in the picture, and wanted to be sick. He’d thought they were for her.

He’d kept this as a memento, thinking she was pregnant. To what end? No way in hell this theoretical baby could’ve been his.

But in Ward’s corrupt and twisted mind…what? Did he think he was somehow going to kidnap the pregnant version of her and they’d become a big, happy family?

It made every part of her feel cold and disgusting. Automatically, Daisy glanced back toward Jemma and her mother, and found Jemma looking at her intensely. Her face said everything Daisy needed to know.

She handed the paper back to Ward. “Following me, huh? Cute.”

“I had names picked out and everything. Given your family baggage being only slightly less murderous than mine, I thought Calvin might be a good name. If it’s a boy, of course.”

“You’re vile,” Daisy said. She stepped over to a display of dishes and picked up a plate.

“What are you doing?” Ward asked.

“Selling our cover so that Mrs. Simmons doesn’t get suspicious. Cute pattern, right?” She held it up, testing the vibrations between her hands.

Ward narrowed his eyes at her. “Put that down.”

“What? C’mon, you can’t possibly think I can beat you with a _plate_.”

“Keep it up and Fitz won’t be a very happy man for much longer. Or a living one,” Ward said.

“I doubt that,” Daisy said, and threw the plate like a frisbee at the goon subtly menacing the group of girls twenty feet away. She hit it with a blast of vibration energy to speed it up so that it shattered against the goon’s skull.

He toppled like a giant redwood.

Ward’s strike caught her in the lower back, sending up a flare of pain, but she’d expected that. She threw herself forward, spinning as she did so and unleashing a full quake directly at him. It sang up her arms, lighting everything on fire, but it drove him back into a sales rack. His arms wind-milled. She rolled up onto one knee and yanked her gun free, firing three rounds at him even as he dodged away.

Daisy leapt to her feet. Ward was the primary threat, but not the only one. She had to hope Jemma could handle herself against the third man. Seeing the second moving toward a crowd of screaming shoppers, though, she herself put on a burst of speed. She hurtled into a display, plowing into a mannequin and slamming it with earthquake force so that it pummeled the goon and shattered. As he reeled back in shock, she iced him right between the eyes.

Ward hit her from the back, throwing her to the ground again. She scrambled up and fought back, matching his strikes with her own. Muscle memory made it seem like she was back on the Bus, fighting her SO all over again, but this was so much meaner and desperate. He knocked her back with a punch to the face that May would yell at her for, and she unloaded two hands full of tremor shocks at him.

The fight turned desperate even as the sadistic gleam in his eyes intensified, his years and years of hand to hand training surpassing even the quakes she blasted at him. Sick bastard was getting off on this, she realized with a stomach dropping jolt. He kicked her in the midsection and she stumbled back. The shelves of appliances provided little cover: he threw her into racks, smiling at every punch landed, controlling the fight with vicious smarminess. She battled on, searching for any weakness, but his fighting skill usurped hers and her arms absolutely screamed with agony from the unrelenting quake force. The hits became sloppier, more painful, and every moment he held the upper hand, she could feel the panic closing in.

She just had to hold on and hope Jemma and her mother had gotten away safely.

Ward landed a lucky hit that sent her careening through a rack of men’s shirts. Daisy landed hard, out of breath. When she tried to push herself up, her arms hurt so bad that she screamed. She’d definitely unleashed too much force. She tried to scramble away by using her elbows to pull herself backward.

Ward stepped around the fallen rack and shook his head at her in disappointment. He was limping, his free hand clutching his midsection in a way that suggested broken ribs. Blood dripped freely from a cut on his hairline. “I wanted to do this the easy way, Skye,” he said. “You could have spared Simmons a lot of pain. Now her baby will grow up without a father. Of course, maybe it’ll be better off.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Daisy asked. She tasted blood on her teeth. One blast, she thought. Powerful enough to take him out. She’d break her arm in the process, but one blast…

“I didn’t want to hurt you, Skye.” Ward pulled out a gun and aimed it right between her eyes. “You _or_ Fitz. But you’ve given me no choice but to—”

A gunshot echoed throughout the store. Daisy went tense, waiting for the agony of bullets ripping through her again, waiting for death and pain.

Instead, Ward fell backward, a neat red hole in his forehead.

His body hit the floor with a loud thud, audible even with the screaming shoppers all around.

Daisy stared at it, uncomprehending. Jerkily, she raised her head and looked around until she saw Jemma, twenty feet away, gun still clenched in both hands, shoulders heaving. “S-Simmons?”

The sound of her name seemed to break the spell. Jemma lowered the gun and raced over to Daisy, kneeling down next to her. “Are you all right? How badly are you hurt? Oh, god, your poor arms—”

“Y-you killed him. You shot him.”

“About time, too.” Jemma patted down Daisy’s arms and torso, her brow furrowing when Daisy hissed out a breath through gritted teeth. “He was about to kill you. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“But—your mom—”

“I told her to run. Hopefully she didn’t see that. Thank god you’re all right.” Jemma pulled her into a tight, crushing hug. Daisy could feel her trembling, or maybe that was her. It didn’t matter, in the end. Daisy closed her eyes and pushed her face into her friend’s shoulder.

“What on earth possessed you to go with him?” Jemma asked, not letting go. She sounded near tears.

“He—your mom, she doesn’t know about you still being SHIELD.”

“I’d rather tell her than lose you.”

“Either way, it doesn’t matter,” Daisy said. “I had to let him keep thinking the agents tailing Fitz were actually a threat. They weren’t because—”

“Hunter was there,” said a new voice, and Jemma and Daisy broke apart to see May standing over them wearing, of all things, a Debbie Harry shirt under her leather jacket. And way more eyeliner than Daisy was used to seeing on her.

“Agent May!” Jemma scrambled up. “When did you get here?”

“Too late to do much. But it looks like you two handled it.” May nodded dispassionately at the dead body on the floor. “I’ll secure the scene until Coulson arrives.”

“Wait.” It hurt like nothing else, and Jemma had to grab her elbow to help, but Daisy climbed to her feet and gave May a hard hug. “God, I am so glad to see you. Can you _please_ come home now?”

It might have been the pain making her hallucinate, but she swore May hugged her back a little.

The small laugh, though, she definitely had to be imagining that.

~ * ~ * ~

While May handled the police, Jemma drew Daisy away from the downed bodies of the Hydra soldiers and into the women’s washroom so that she could assess the damage to Daisy’s arms.

“You’ve definitely got hairline fractures, at the very least. If only I had my diagnostic equipment with me—”

“Because that’s something you take with you on a shopping trip.” Daisy grimaced as Jemma’s probing fingers sent a bolt of agony straight through her arm and up to her jaw. “Ward really did a number on me.”

“You returned the favor. He definitely had more than one broken bone, though of course I’m not going to examine him further.” Jemma’s hands shook as she wetted down a square of paper towel to dab at a cut on Daisy’s clavicle. “Maybe his brain, assuming I didn’t damage it too badly.”

Daisy closed her eyes and leaned back against the mirror, gritting her teeth against the pain. Jemma had scolded her until she’d sat down on the counter by the sinks, so at least her jellified knees didn’t have to hold her up anymore. A thought had her frowning. “What’d you do to the third guy? And how’d you convince your mother to run?”

“I told her I’m still with SHIELD and that you were in danger if she didn’t go.” Jemma carefully pulled a bloodstained object from the sleeve of her sweater. Daisy recognized the knife she’d made on Maveth. “As for the man: pregnant, need I remind you, does not mean helpless.”

“Apparently not. Do you think your mother saw that or…” Daisy gestured helplessly at her hands.

“I don’t know. It happened pretty quickly.” Jemma looked down. “Maybe this is something of a blessing. I never want my parents to worry about what we do, so I thought, well, I’ll just keep them in the dark, won’t I?”

“Sure,” Daisy said, aware it was better just to let Jemma ramble until she talked herself down.

“But as this year has more than proven, life doesn’t always go to plan, does it?” Jemma swapped the paper towel on Daisy’s clavicle for a fresh one, putting a little pressure on the wound. “And as much as we’d love to insulate the ones we love from getting hurt, sometimes it’s simply not possible. We wouldn’t have been in this situation today, where you felt you had to go off on your own to keep my mother from knowing, if I’d warned her in the first place, wouldn’t we? To be truthful, I’m not entirely sure how well she’ll take it. My dad’s quite cool under pressure, you’ll find, but my mother is another case entirely. When I was nine, I wandered off on a family camping trip accidentally, as you do when you’re a child, which was entirely understandable, but she completely lost it and—”

“Simmons. Simmons—Jemma.” Daisy nudged her with her knee since she didn’t want to move her arms. “We’re okay. Everything turned out all right, and everything will also be okay with your parents.”

“Right.” Jemma pushed her shoulders back, obviously trying to collect herself, and seemed to deflate instead. “When I saw you there, and him, and he had the gun, I thought that was the end. And I really, really don’t think I could bear losing you.” Her free hand traveled up from Daisy’s clavicle to cup her cheek. “Whatever’s coming, I really don’t want to face it without you.”

“Your parents? I’m pretty sure they’ll be fine. There may be some yelling first.”

“No, not that. I mean, I don’t want to face any of this without you.”

It struck Daisy in that moment that their faces were uncommonly close, and her heart had begun to gallop again. It wasn’t the adrenaline rush that came from a fight, but a fluttery feeling seemed to beat through her veins anyway. There were inches between them, and it would be extraordinarily easy to grab the front of Jemma’s cardigan and pull her closer. And even more than that, she wanted to.

“I,” she said, and had to lick her lips because her voice had begun to crack. “I don’t—”

The door banged open against the wall, making both of them jump and jolt away from each other and jostling Daisy’s arms. She hissed in pain even as Nora raced in.

“Oh, thank god, you’re both all right,” Nora said. Daisy went stiff in surprise when instead of just hugging Jemma, she threw an arm around each of them and pulled them both close. “I was so worried.”

It took nearly half an hour to calm Nora down and even then, she kept touching Jemma’s cheeks and shoulders as if to reassure herself that she was truly unharmed. She clucked over Daisy’s arms, even when Jemma scolded her for fussing. “You’re one of them, right? The inhumans that Jemma’s been studying,” she said to Daisy.

“One of _them_? Mum, she’s—”

“I’m inhuman, yes,” Daisy said, her mouth dry.

“And the shaking, that was you? You caused the earthquakes and…hit people with them?”

“It’s much more complicated than that, Mum. Her powers are actually—”

“Actually, your mom’s pretty much got it,” Daisy told Jemma before she could go on the full spiel. Daisy had heard it at least seven times and she still only understood about twelve percent of it. She remained sitting where she was, tensing and waiting for the judgment.

Instead, Nora patted her knee. “How effective is it on moles? Because Craig’s got a few in the garden that have been an absolute problem and—”

“Mum!”

Daisy was spared from any further bickering by the door opening again, this time to admit Hunter, Jack, and Fitz, who all started talking over each other at once and didn’t stop until May came in and glared them all to silence. It lasted three seconds before the second wave of arrivals: Coulson, leading Bobbi and Mack, and carrying Jemma and Fitz’s preferred field kits. Chaos reigned until Nora, taking control of the situation, shooed most of the agents out—“This is a loo, not a lounge!”—and left Fitz, Bobbi, and Daisy behind.

Jemma shot one final look at Daisy as she was dragged out by her mother, no doubt to explain to her family why exactly there had been an attack at a department store in Sheffield when she was supposed to be a lowly scientist.

After she left, it took forever for Daisy’s pulse to calm as Bobbi and Fitz treated the hairline fractures on her arms, easing her into the cast-gauntlets they’d made. Daisy told herself it was just coming down from the adrenaline of fighting with Ward and seeing him die, and not from that strange moment with Jemma before they’d been interrupted.

But even she wasn’t that good at lying to herself.

~ * ~ * ~

Coulson handled the clean-up at the department store, sending Ward’s body and the Hydra goons back to headquarters. Instead of being put on a quinjet, Daisy was driven back to the Simmons homestead, where she found most of their team gathered around the dinner table. Apparently Craig and Nora Simmons’ reaction to finding out their daughter had never left SHIELD was to simply feed the entire team. Daisy, arms in temporary casts, found herself stuffed between Jack and Bobbi at the dinner table, answering Jack’s questions. Bobbi occasionally nudged Daisy and raised an eyebrow at Jemma’s brother in a _cute, right_? sort of way, but Daisy was frankly too exhausted from her day and from finally, _finally_ seeing Ward fall to put up much of an argument.

She got the full story after dinner while Jemma and her family vanished into the living room, leaving the other SHIELD agents to catch up. May and Hunter had infiltrated the lower ranks of local crime rings used by Hydra, how they’d spent months trying to get close. Hunter hadn’t even known it would be Fitz he’d be threatening at the pub, or that Ward had even been in England. But the minute he’d seen Fitz, he’d known. It simply hadn’t been enough time to warn Daisy and Jemma.

Luckily, they’d handled matters on their own, in the end.

And Ward was dead.

She didn’t know how she felt about that. Relief came in among the top emotions, buried as it was under a layer of numbness. She felt hollowed out. After all of the pain he’d inflicted on her, all of the emotional manipulation and mind games, he was gone. Jemma had put a bullet in his brain using his own henchman’s gun. With a single pull of a trigger, SHIELD’s number one enemy had fallen.

The long, twisted string of his life had been cut, just like that.

The Simmons family hadn’t emerged by the time most of the team left. “Take the vacation, Daisy. You’ve earned it,” Coulson had said before he’d driven the others back to the quinjet. Fitz had vanished up to the guest bedroom right afterward, leaving Daisy with her thoughts.

Rather than going upstairs to wait for Jemma, she pulled on a coat and trekked outside. She’d do some stargazing and philosophize, she decided. That was what you were supposed to do after watching the man who’d manipulated and hurt your friends finally kick the bucket, right? Even if it was cold as balls outside. Like, god, on nights like these she really missed L.A. Scorching hot in the summer, but at least the air had never hurt her face.

She looked up at the panoply of stars above, the milky way visible in such darkness, and her heart lifted. In L.A., she’d gone up into the hills, crawled on top of her van, and had just watched the stars, daydreaming for hours and hours. Usually the same daydreams, ones about finding her parents, or making out with somebody hot. That had been an entirely different person in a different lifetime then.

Now she sat in Sheffield, frozen to the bone, hollowed out and numb to it.

She heard footsteps and whirled, scrabbling for the icer tucked into the back of her jeans.

“Just me,” Craig’s voice said in the darkness before he came around the shed. He held two mugs that steamed in the moonlight. “Jemma thought you might be getting cold. She would’ve delivered it herself, but I’m afraid her mum’s got a few hundred more questions for her.”

“I bet.” Daisy took the mug with a thanks, and sipped. “I, ah, know it’s a bit of a shock. All of it. SHIELD, what happened today, my being an inhuman, Jemma’s whole…job.”

“If nothing else, you’ve certainly made Jack’s day. He’s been curious about inhumans for ages. You mind if I sit?”

Daisy scooted over on the bench to make room for him. She hadn’t spent any time with Jemma’s father alone. He seemed so…professorly. Jemma had definitely inherited his love of neat cardigans and blazers with elbow patches. “So, Mr. S, how are you holding up?”

“About as well as can be expected, considering I missed all of the excitement.” Craig took a sip and looked around the yard. He pointed. “You see that tree there? Jack begged me for ages to put a treehouse in that tree, but Jemma wouldn’t hear of it. She insisted the nailing things into the tree would be beyond cruel.”

“Really? How old was she?”

“About nine or so.” Craig smiled. “She always had a soft spot for animals and plants. Unsurprising that she became a biochemist, isn’t it?”

“Nowadays I’m more likely get a lecture about the genus of that specific tree and how it’s good for, I don’t know, a specific strain of medicine.” Daisy felt a smile tug at her lips, a genuine one. “This seems like a nice place to grow up. No wonder she talks about this place so much.”

“We miss her when she’s gone. As much as we’d love to keep her here, we always knew she wasn’t meant to stay.” Craig sipped his hot chocolate.

“You worry about her,” Daisy said. She grimaced at herself. “What am I saying? Of course you worry about her. Now more, probably, since you know the truth.”

“We’d worry either way. There’s no holding Jemma back when she has her mind set on something.”

He had a point there. Daisy made a noncommittal noise.

“But,” Craig said, “now we know she has a good team with her. Even the Arsenal fan.”

“Hunter’s a sweet guy. Deep down. Very, very deep down,” Daisy said, frowning a little. She’d never been a fan of sports—she hadn’t really done team activities of any kind before SHIELD—but the arguing had seemed friendly enough between Hunter and Craig.

“I’ll try not to hold his team against him, I suppose.”

“Oh, no, go ahead. We love Hunter, but he’s a human disaster.”

Craig laughed and toasted her with the hot chocolate mug. “I can see why Jemma speaks so highly of your team.”

“We all love Jemma, though, all of us,” Daisy said. “She’s my best friend, and actually kind of my first real friend I’ve ever had. Her and Fitz both. My first day with SHIELD, they immediately made me feel welcome.”

She cleared her throat. “Then of course they tried to haze me later on, but nobody’s perfect.”

Craig chuckled. “That does sound like Fitz and Jemma. I worry a little less knowing he’s with her. And now you, too.”

“We’re definitely not going anywhere.”

Craig regarded her for a long moment and nodded to himself, like he’d found something he expected to see. Daisy almost asked him about what he’d been looking for, but he cleared his throat and changed the subject, asking her if she shared Jemma’s love for astronomy. Daisy only knew a few constellations, and those she knew had more to do with navigation than anything else. But she sat and listened to Craig point out stars, filling in her in on the stories behind them, until the rest of the hot chocolate had long grown cold.

Jemma had returned to their shared bedroom by the time she dragged herself back in, all feeling in her toes and fingers completely gone. She’d changed into her pajamas and she had one of those gigantic texts with the unpronounceable words on the cover open, propped up on her chest. She closed it when Daisy stepped in. “You look cold.”

“I can’t feel my fingers or toes.” Daisy wrinkled her nose and met her friend’s gaze. The moment from the bathroom earlier rushed back to the front of her mind, but she shoved it away. She fell back on a smile as she peeled out of her jacket, hanging that neatly on the desk chair. She pulled off her boots and sat on the air mattress. “What a day, huh?”

Jemma let out a little laugh and put the text to the side. She rubbed her forehead. “That’s putting it mildly, I fear.”

“No kidding. How are you doing? Now that your family knows?”

“It’s a weight off of my chest, I can’t deny that.” Jemma rubbed tiredly at her face with one hand. The other, freed from the book, absently circled her stomach. “But my mum didn’t handle all of it well. Maveth in particular. I’ll be calling home a lot more in the near future, it looks like, to keep Mum from worrying overmuch.”

“Guess that’s a mom’s job, right? Worrying.”

Jemma’s hand stilled on her stomach. “Yes. Yes, I suppose it is.”

Daisy left her to her quiet reverie as she stepped into the bathroom and prepared for bed as best she could with her arms still in their casts. Her arms itched, but the painkillers were still working. She grimaced at the cuts on her temple and above her lip, but nothing she could really do about that. When she stepped back into the room, Jemma had dimmed most of the lights, leaving only the lamp by Daisy’s mattress on her. She had curled into a little ball under her covers, facing away from Daisy.

Daisy tiptoed across the room and slipped into bed, sighing as she finally let the tension drain from her limbs. “Happy Boxing Day, I guess,” she whispered.

Jemma, clearly asleep, only made a small noise in response.

Daisy lay on the mattress for hours, staring up at the ceiling. Sleep never came. 


	4. Weeks Sixteen Through Twenty

**_Week Sixteen_ **

New Year’s Eve at SHIELD was kind of a mixed bag, Daisy found. Some agents gathered in the Playground’s lounge with champagne and sparklers, others hit the local bars, but nobody took the full day off. Daisy caught lunch with Coulson and Mack, discussing strategy for an upcoming meeting with the still-elusive Rosalind Price. She spent her afternoon sparring with May, helped Hunter (who’d lost a bet) with inventory, and spent an hour on the shooting range with Fitz’s new icer design.

By dinner time, she should have been in a party mood, and she knew that. The pall of Grant Ward had finally ceased hanging over SHIELD. No more nights wondering if he waited around the next corner, ready to manipulate her and talk at her and gaslight her. No more wondering which operations he’d hinder, whose lives he’d put in danger. She was free. She should have felt relief, overwhelming relief.

All she felt was a sort of numbness. Ward was gone, life snuffed with a bullet to the head. And even though she’d watched his body fall—or precisely because she had—Daisy had woken up in a cold sweat every night since, gasping and trying to maintain her hold on reality.

So after dinner, she retreated to a seldom-used lounge with her laptop to try and track Lincoln. They hadn’t made any progress on the inhuman front, and Lincoln had been a transition specialist at afterlife _and_ a medical doctor. There was literally nobody on the planet more qualified to assist SHIELD and the ATCU with inhuman transitioning, and yet he continued to run.

Daisy typed this into an email four times and erased it since there wasn’t much else she could do. When Jemma poked her head in, Daisy couldn’t deny that she was relieved to have a distraction.

The serious look on Jemma’s face dried that relief right up. “Is something wrong?” Daisy asked, closing the laptop.

“No, but d’you have a minute? You’re not in the middle of anything important, are you?”

“Nothing that can’t wait.”

“Oh. Good. Erm, stay there? I’ll be right back.” Jemma vanished, leaving Daisy at the table. A minute later, she returned with Fitz in tow. Jemma gestured that they should take a seat. “There’s something I need to talk to you both about.”

Fitz still had a screwdriver in his hand and the puzzled furrow of his brow matched what Daisy felt, which comforted her somewhat. “If it’s about me being testy, Daisy and I already talked about that and we’re getting along much better,” he said.

“It’s not that. Though I do appreciate it.” Jemma took a deep breath.

Her bottom lip was trembling, Daisy realized, a sign that tears could be imminent. She reached across the table and laid her hand over Jemma’s. “What’s going on, Jemma?”

Jemma rubbed the thumb of her free hand over the corner of her eyelid. “I’ve been thinking a lot this week. Specifically about—well, about Ward, actually. What happened with him was awful. I don’t think any of us have gotten a real night of sleep since.”

Fitz glanced swiftly at Daisy, and she looked at the table. She’d thought she’d kept her nightmares quiet, but apparently not. She really needed to switch rooms so that she wasn’t Fitz’s neighbor anymore.

“What happened was scary, but it’s also just an accepted truth in our lives that we face danger so others don’t need to,” Jemma said after a deep breath. “And I’m proud to do that, and I know you are, too.”

“Why do I sense there’s a ‘but’ in here?” Daisy asked.

“I’m proud of what we do, but it’s not just me anymore. I’ve had my…I’ve had my denial, and a good long sulk, but it’s time I accept some things. I’m having a baby. If I’m lucky, it’ll be around the first of June and not before. It wasn’t planned, but the first thing one learns at SHIELD is that nothing ever goes to plan. So I’m having this baby, and I hope you two will be there right alongside me.”

“Obviously,” Fitz said at the same time as Daisy said, “Duh.”

Daisy continued, “We’ll be the best honorary aunt and uncle ever. You and Fitz can teach Simmons Junior nerdy science things, and I’ll teach them how to fight back when the cool kids try to take their lunch money for being a nerd.”

Fitz and Jemma looked like they would very much like to protest that, but they exchanged a look. “It’s a useful skill,” Fitz said begrudgingly.

“See? I bring things to the table occasionally,” Daisy said.

Jemma’s lips quirked upward. “There’s something else,” she said. “It’s a big request to make, especially since we’ve literally just got back from visiting my parents, but if something were to happen to me, I was hoping you might be willing to…step in?”

“Step in as in raise—raise your child?” Daisy asked. Oddly, her voice had gone up nearly an octave and she was suddenly at least thirty percent more aware of every exit location in the base. “That kind of step in?”

Jemma bit her lip. “It’s a lot to ask.”

Daisy’s mind went completely and utterly fuzzy. At least Fitz had been stunned silent, too. It was one thing for Jemma to be pregnant because that meant _Jemma_ would be a mother. But if something happened—her stomach pitched and rolled at the thought—it would fall to Daisy and Fitz. He was a competent adult when he wasn’t being crabby, but Daisy could barely take care of herself. There was absolutely nothing in her background that would have ever prepared her for the possibility of taking care of another, more helpless, smaller person.

Jemma turned her hand over on the table to link their fingers. “It’s something you said that made me consider it,” Jemma said. “On the rooftop, remember? You reminded me of all the children like you in the system, who didn’t have a backup. I don’t want that for this child. You turned out lovely, but I don’t want to subject anybody to that kind of pain.”

“What about your parents?” Fitz asked.

“I’ve talked to them about it, and they’ll do whatever is needed in the event the worst happens. Jack, too. But as much as I love them, and I want them to be a part of this baby’s life even if I’m gone, I left when I was fourteen, and it wasn’t until I was at the Academy that I finally began to find myself. Where I met you.” Jemma looked at Fitz. She then looked solemnly at Daisy, who couldn’t look away. “And then in the field where I met you. You are the people that mean the most in the world to me, and who truly know me best. If I’m gone, if something should happen to me, the two of you would be the best tether I could keep to this child.”

Daisy managed to swallow past the lump in her throat. “Well, first of all, nothing is ever going to happen to you, just so we’re clear,” she said.

“Agreed,” Fitz said.

“You can’t possibly know that,” Jemma said, but Fitz and Daisy glared. “What? You can’t!”

“Even so.” Daisy cleared her throat. “But if something _did_ happen to you, of course I’d be there for Simmons Junior.”

“Me too. Anything they needed, anything at all. Though I refuse to call him—her—it—‘Junior.’” Fitz had an odd look on his face. Daisy had never asked about the end of their romantic relationship, but now she wondered how much of a role the unborn baby had played in that. “I will say, try not to let anything happen to you. I’m not much good with babies. I prefer it when they’re older. Or monkeys.”

Daisy stifled a laugh. “Don’t ever change,” she told him.

“Of course I’ll change, that’s the point of living, isn’t it? If I never changed, I’d be static.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, and I think you know that.”

They both looked over in confusion when Jemma burst into tears. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, flapping her free hand in front of her face. “You two go on. I’m just so relieved—don’t mind me—it’ll pass in a moment, I’m sure—”

“Is it the hormones?” Fitz whispered to Daisy.

“Yes, but you’re not supposed to say that out loud, dummy.” She rounded the table and hugged Jemma, rubbing her friend’s back. Jemma held on tightly, sniffling, and didn’t move, even when Fitz got up and rested his hand on her shoulder.

The enormity of what she’d agreed to sat heavily under Daisy’s ribcage, pushing against her heart, but she knew she’d never have been able to say no. She’d grown up in the system, clawing to find her way out and never really knowing how to do that. Jemma had already put measures into place so that the same wouldn’t happen to her child. And it wouldn’t, Daisy thought. She would personally do everything she could, she realized, to ensure that the baby would never know any of the pain she had at growing up, shuffled through the system as she was. Which had to be precisely why Jemma had asked this of her and Fitz.

For now, though, she merely held on until Jemma stopped crying and, obviously flustered, left to go make herself a cup of tea. The minute she was out of earshot, Daisy turned to Fitz. “What would it even be like? Would we have shared custody or…?”

“It’s a bit of a grim topic, don’t you think?”

“Well, obviously,” Daisy said. “ _Obviously_ I hope the worst never happens. That goes without saying. But, like, if it did?”

“Then I imagine the baby would go to you first,” Fitz said. “And I’ll be around to help out.”

“Is this because I’m a woman?”

“Of course not.” He gave her a look like the very idea was absurd.

Daisy blinked at him. “Then, wait, why me? You two have been friends forever. You finish each other’s sentences, like, all the time.”

“You’ll figure it out.” And with that cryptic statement, he awkwardly reached out and seemed to think about it for a second. He settled for patting her on the shoulder, and left.

~ * ~ * ~

Though Daisy _really_ wasn’t in a partying mood after that, Mack found her and dragged her out into the lounge, where even May had been coerced into being present for the festivities. She wordlessly pushed a bottle of beer into Daisy’s hand and tilted her eyebrow at the ping pong table in the corner, where Bobbi and Hunter were currently in mid-crow at their current state of being undefeated. She’d done more surreal things than helping May beat the divorced couple at beer pong, Daisy was sure, but she couldn’t think of them off the top of her head. May’s time deep undercover with Hunter had changed quite a few things, it appeared.

At fifteen seconds to midnight, her phone buzzed with a text from an unlisted number.

Unknown Number  
  
Not safe to talk but wanted to start your year off right. Happy New Year. (smiley emoji)  
  
  
  


It was signed by only a smiley emoji, but there could be only one person. Daisy frowned at the text. She texted back her well wishes to Lincoln, forgoing the smiley face, and pocketed her phone. As she did, she spotted Fitz and Jemma over by the stove, apparently deep in an argument. Fitz gestured at the room and Jemma gave him a look that would blister the paint off of the quinjet.

Better to stay out of that one.

Daisy dropped onto the couch between Coulson and Bobbi, raising her bottle and shouting the countdown. At midnight, she hugged both of them, stood on her tiptoes to kiss Mack on the cheek, and ducked the glitter cannon that Hunter had dragged out. She bounced over to Fitz and Jemma afterward. They both abruptly stopped arguing as she drew near.

“Happy new year!” She hugged Fitz first, then Jemma, holding on tight. “Here’s to a great one, right?”

“Indeed!” Jemma raised her sparkling apple juice in a little toast, clearing her throat. Why she elbowed Fitz in the side, Daisy had no idea. “I think we all deserve some happiness. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Definitely. Ooh, May made more cheese puffs. I don’t know about you, but I _am_ starting this year right.” Daisy nudged her way through them, making a beeline for the tray May held before Hunter could get to it.

She swore she heard Fitz mutter “Coward” at Jemma as she moved off, but maybe it was just her imagination.

May was back, Coulson was in charge, she had all of her friends and coworkers gathered close, Lincoln was staying in touch. It was going to be a good year, she determined.

~ * ~ * ~

**_Week Seventeen_ **

Five days in, and this year already sucked.

All along. All along the inhuman killer had been right under their noses, directly in their camp. Talking to Jemma, talking to her, providing _therapy_ for god’s sake, and not one person had seen the similarities between Andrew Garner’s travel for SHIELD and Lash’s kill pattern.

Daisy felt hollowed out, brutally empty, as she watched the ATCU load the containment pod onto the bed of a semi. Rosalind Price had assured Coulson that he wouldn’t be harmed, that Andrew would be in the best possible care, but Daisy no longer had no idea what to believe. Getting into the ATCU’s servers was nigh on impossible without getting an inside man into the facility, and Coulson had refused to sign off on that mission—yet. Daisy was pretty sure she’d been wearing him down, but that didn’t stop him from doing that weird flirtation thing with Rosalind that made Daisy feel like frowning.

Coulson might not actually be her father, but it kind of felt like being introduced to a new and already hated stepmother.

May was nowhere to be found as the pod was carted away, but Daisy hadn’t really expected to see her. She knew her SO had to be nearby—May wouldn’t let Andrew go without overseeing it—but the woman clung to shadows like she’d been born to do just that. So after they closed the semi’s doors and the agent climbed into the front seat, the truck rumbling as it left the bay, Daisy wordlessly turned and walked back to the quinjet.

Lincoln, sitting numbly in one of the jump seats, glanced up at her and away just as quickly. He’d already apologized three times. Daisy knew he meant it, but she lacked the emotional strength to handle it at the moment. So she simply kept walking, and settled into the copilot’s seat.

May joined her five minutes later and didn’t speak a word, not even when Coulson climbed aboard and said they were cleared to take off. Daisy watched the horizon beyond the cockpit, remembering all the times the noise in her head had grown too loud after Ward that she’d climbed into the cockpit of the Bus to simply sit in silence beside May.

This time, though, May flipped a couple of switches that put the quinjet on autopilot. She angled a look at Daisy. “Do you need to talk?”

“No,” Daisy said.

May didn’t reply with “Good,” but Daisy could read between the lines well enough.  

Back at the base, May squeezed her arm, just once. It was momentous enough to alleviate some of the tension pulling her shoulders taut, but it wasn’t enough to fight back the sick feeling in her chest. Without knowing where she was going, Daisy started to wander. Andrew had been a friend. A therapist. The first therapist she’d ever begun to trust. Daisy let out a humorless laugh as she wandered on with her hands in her pockets. It just figured.

Without her bidding, her footsteps carried her to the lab. There she stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest and one shoulder leaning up against the frame. She watched Jemma speak with one of the scientists on her team, no doubt conferring about the sequencing project she’d talked to Daisy about over dinner the night before. Daisy hadn’t understood more than the bare bones of it, but she’d liked the rise and fall of Jemma’s voice as she explained. She liked listening to what made her friend happy.

Now, less than twenty four hours later, she felt like happiness might be a long way off from ever occurring again.

As if sensing her, Jemma glanced up and over, locking gazes with her. She murmured something to her colleague and stepped over. Her eyes shone suspiciously, a hint of tears.

“You heard?” Daisy asked, and her voice came out thick and choked, shocking the hell out of her.

Jemma merely nodded.

“The ATCU has him—” Daisy broke off. Words built up, but it was like her throat had been stoppered. Attempting to speak only made it worse, so she shook her head a little wildly.

Jemma turned out not to need the words. “Oh, Daisy,” she said, and pulled Daisy into a hug. Andrew had been her therapist, too, one of the few people she would speak to about Maveth in those first days. And they all loved him. He’d become one of them. So it made sense that Daisy could feel her trembling as well. Or maybe that was from her. She couldn’t tell, and honestly, she didn’t care.

She merely closed her eyes and held on. 

~ * ~ * ~

**_Week Eighteen_ **

By this point in her Rising Tide days, Daisy would have made a move on Lincoln. She knew it, she had more than enough past evidence to prove it, and yet she felt stuck in a holding pattern. Andrew’s betrayal seemed to hang between her and Lincoln, catching them out of step and off rhythm. He’d come in under duress, essentially, and her loyalty to SHIELD combined with his skepticism of it would probably always serve as a hindrance. But she still found him cute and there _was_ that frisson of attraction, even if it felt a little bit wrong now.

But maybe that was just the past couple of years and romantic missteps seriously messing with her head. After all, she had just watched her best friend kill her previous crush to save her life.

With that in mind, after training ended on Friday, she invited Lincoln to her room, ostensibly to watch a bad Kung Fu movie. And hey, if something else happened, who was she to complain? 

But half an hour into the movie, she stayed firmly on her side of the bed and he hadn’t moved an inch, though he’d glanced her way several times. Mostly that was to explain the genius behind the truly terrible movie he’d picked for them.

Still, she was almost relieved when the door banged open. Daisy reached for her gun, but: “Simmons?”

Her friend clung to the door jam, wide-eyed. She took in the tableau of Daisy and Lincoln on the bed with the laptop between them. “Oh, I’m so terribly sorry, I should have knocked. I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

“Simmons—Jemma, it’s okay.”

“Is something wrong?” Lincoln asked, already on his feet. Belatedly, Daisy reached over and pushed the space bar to stop the movie.

“Wrong? No, no, no, of course not.” But Jemma still looked wild-eyed and a little panicked.

“Then what’s the matter?” Daisy asked. “What is it?”

Jemma grabbed her arms. “The baby! I felt—I felt the baby move.”

Daisy’s heart jolted. “What? When? Just now?”

Jemma nodded fervently. “Yes! I was—well, I was running tests on some samples in the lab, and they were very interesting, you see, because we’ve been working off the hypothesis that—”

“Simmons, I love your science talk, I really do, but get to the bit with the baby!”

“Right. Right! I was putting samples into the spectrometer and I felt it, just the slightest flutter. I wasn’t even sure, I thought I might be imagining it, but I felt it again and—the baby! Daisy, the baby moved.”

“Oh my god.” Daisy put her hand over Jemma’s midsection. “You felt him?”

“Them, if anything, but yes, I don’t think you’d be able to, the fetus is so little right now.”

“Aw.” In lieu of that, Daisy hugged Jemma, squeezing hard. “What’s it feel like? Is the baby super active? Because you know Hunter’s going to love that, he’s been talking about footy or whatever the hell that is for weeks now. Are you kicking her in the spleen, Simmons Junior?” The last was directed at Jemma’s midsection.

“As ever, your knowledge of human anatomy concerns me. And no, not too active, just some fluttering here or there and—oh.” Jemma grabbed Daisy’s hand, going still. “The baby moved again!”

“Oh, that is so cool. I wish I could—wait, I bet I could pick up the movement.”

Jemma tilted her head. “How?”

“I pick up vibrations, remember? That’s, like, what’s it—sonar, but with feeling.”

“You’re that precise?” Lincoln asked from behind her, and Daisy felt a guilty jolt that she’d completely forgotten he was there.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t use it that way much, but I could…?” Daisy trailed off with the offer to Jemma, raising her eyebrows. “But only if you’re comfortable with it.”

“I trust you,” Jemma said. They’d come a long way since the onset of her abilities, Daisy realized, and the fear in her friend’s eyes as she’d watched Daisy nearly bring down the base. Now she only looked a little bit intrigued about what Daisy planned to do.

Taking a deep breath, Daisy spread her fingers over Jemma’s abdomen and shut her eyes to concentrate better. She heard Lincoln shuffle closer, no doubt curious himself. Gigantic, powerful, percussive bursts of vibration, those were easy. But Jiaying had also taught her to harness the delicate vibrations of a single glass of water, and that was the skill she called upon now. She recognized the typical grouping of vibrations that made up her friend and pushed past this, releasing a gentle pulse. It gave her a mental image of Jemma’s inside, which was _weird_ , but she also felt the fetus in the strange, knowing clarity of her powers.

At the pulse, it kicked out, and both Jemma and Daisy gasped.

“You felt that, right?” Daisy asked.

Jemma put her hand back on her midsection, eyes completely wide. “They definitely liked that. I can feel them moving still. I had no idea you could even do that.”

“You learn something new every day.” 

They grinned stupidly at each other until Jemma looked over and jumped. “Oh, here I am ruining your movie night,” she said. “You’re just about to reach the good part on the bridge, too. Here, I’ll go—”

“You’ve seen _Kickpuncher_?” Lincoln asked, surprised.

Daisy plopped back on the bed. “Simmons is a bad Kung Fu movie connoisseur. Won’t watch a horror movie until you twist her arm, but bad dubbing and fake fights? She’s all for it.”

And Jemma wasn’t alone in that, apparently, for Lincoln immediately began asking about obscure titles that Daisy was pretty sure were made up. Twenty minutes later, Daisy found herself balancing the laptop on her knees with Jemma on one side and Lincoln on the other. They held an in-depth and passionate debate breaking down the _Kickpuncher_ series into its cinematic themes, throwing out words like _mise-en-scene_. They bemoaned the directorial change between _Kickpuncher 6_ and _7_. By the time they broke down the evolving fight style of the series’ kickboxing android—“Cyborg, Daisy. He’s clearly a cyborg.”—hero, Daisy found herself drifting a little bit. She’d just close her eyes for a second, she decided. It had been a long week, and clearly she wasn’t needed here.

And thinking about how it exciting it had been to feel Jemma’s baby respond to her, she may have drifted off to sleep.

~ * ~ * ~

When she opened her eyes again, the laptop had been removed, the lamp had been turned off, and Lincoln had vanished. A note on the pillow was the only clue to his whereabouts. Daisy could make out the words in the light from the fake streetlight in her window. 

_Bored two of you to sleep. In order to save my pride, I’m considering this an accomplishment rather than a moral failing. Sleep well – L_

Well, that would explain the warmth pressing up against her back. Daisy typically slept on her side, but she also slept alone, so she was a bit confused about that. She peered over her shoulder to see Jemma facing the other way, even as she snuggled against Daisy so they slept back to back. She hugged her pillow with one hand and held the other protectively over her stomach. Daisy tried to shift away to give her more space, but Jemma grumbled in her sleep and moved closer.

And that was a bit strange, but honestly, it felt nice. Jemma always used some shampoo with a scent Daisy couldn’t identify but found calming nevertheless. And the last thing Daisy wanted to do, really, was wake a pregnant woman in the middle of what could be an important sleep cycle in order to shuffle her off to a cold bed two rooms down. They’d shared beds before. But previous to Maveth, never this often. Usually when they were on the run or there was limited space.

But from what Jemma had told her about the planet—which wasn’t much, her friend was still tight-lipped about everything—sleeping had always come at the cost of wondering if the dark creature would find her or Will in their sleep. So it wasn’t any wonder that Jemma had apparently opted to simply stay or fall asleep right there. 

Even half-asleep, Daisy took a moment to marvel at the sheer absurdity of their lives. She rolled over, hugging Jemma from behind. Her friend sighed in her sleep, seeming to relax. And hey, it was cold. Shared body heat or whatever.

Or at least that was what Daisy told herself as she fell back asleep. 

~ * ~ * ~

**_Week Twenty_ **

Near the end of January, Daisy stopped by the lab and poked her head in. Not seeing any signs of her one friend, she focused on the other. “Is Simmons around?”

“Check the hangar.” Fitz didn’t look up from gluing an optic in place on one of his drones. He’d talked about it at dinner the last night. Kili? Maybe? Or was it Fili? Daisy hadn’t paid attention. “She’s calibrating one of the containment pods.”

“We’ve got a new inhuman? Why didn’t anybody tell me?”

“Little busy here,” Fitz said. 

Because she recognized his ‘truly at work’ tone—which held more gruffness than rudeness—Daisy very considerately did not ruffle his hair as she went by. She jogged to the hangar, checking her phone for any missed messages and wondering why nobody had alerted her about the inhuman. Calibrations should also be made in flight, in order to get a jump on the ATCU. Unless they weren’t doing that anymore.

Maybe they were just letting the ATCU handle _all_ of the inhumans now. Daisy really, really did not like the thought.

She found Jemma by the containment pods, entering number into a tablet. She wore her coat from the lab, smartly pressed and immaculate, over one of the new maternity shirts Bobbi had bullied her into buying. She looked almost as fresh-faced as their first week on the Bus. And just as focused on her work, though she did glance over as Daisy trotted up.

“Hey, Simmons? What’s going on? Nobody told me there’s a new inhuman.”

“There’s not.” Jemma tapped a number in. “Or if there is, I’m not aware of it. We’ve set this pod aside for Will.”

“For W—oh.” Daisy blinked and studied the white pod. “You think he’s inhuman?”

“No. Though it’s possible. I’ve been running calculations, and I’m a little concerned that the altered gravity and atmosphere on earth might be difficult for his body to handle. The pod is the best chance we can give him to help adapt so he can return to a normal life.”

“Right. I…didn’t even think about that.” A normal life. It struck Daisy that for all of her promises to help Jemma find Will and bring him back, he’d still been nothing but an abstract to her. She never really thought about the logistics of bringing him back, what he would go on to do, how he would adapt after over a decade on another world. But Fitz was close if the dark circles under his eyes were anything to go by, and that meant they’d be returning with a real live flesh and blood man. One with a baby on the way, Daisy thought, looking at Jemma’s maternity blouse. He’d be active and involved with Jemma and the baby both. As he should be.

So why had an ugly sort of coldness spread through her chest? Why did she resent this man she’d never seen or met?

“Daisy?” Jemma said, and Daisy swiveled to face her quickly. Too quickly. “Is something the matter?”

“What? No. No, nothing’s the matter. Of course it isn’t. I’m happy that Will’s coming back and excited we’re at this stage. Why wouldn’t I be?” God, why couldn’t she stop talking? Why had her mouth decided to plot its own conversational disaster course without consulting her?

Jemma eyed her. Abort, Daisy’s brain shouted at her mouth. Abort. Stop.

“I personally can’t think of a reason not to be excited,” Jemma said, turning back to the tablet. “Unless you were jealous or something.”

Though the last was added breezily, Daisy froze up like a caged animal. Had it always been this close and cramped in the containment pod area? Jealous? Her? That would be ridiculous. Absurd. Outlandish. Jealous of _what_? Preposterous.

Some traitorous part of Daisy’s brain less-than-helpfully noted that she was using far too many synonyms for someone trying to play it cool. “Pfft,” was all she managed to say.

“You’re _not_ jealous, are you?” Jemma asked in a voice Daisy couldn’t decipher.

“Of what? A dude who’s about to get stuck in one of these for months?” Daisy thumped the side of the pod with her palm. “Hard pass.”

“I suppose you have a point there.” Jemma looked hard at the tablet like the numbers weren’t adding up. “It’d be absurd to be jealous of something like that.”

That’s what I said, Daisy wanted to say, but she was a little too busy frowning to herself. Had Jemma sounded disappointed? That was strange. “Totally absurd,” she said. She stuck her hands in her back pockets and rocked back on her heels to study the pod. After a second, she slanted a look at Jemma. “Sucks to be stuck in one of those, but he’ll get to spend a lot of time with you as he adjusts. So he’s got that going for him.”

She expected that Jemma would laugh or fondly roll her eyes at Daisy for the over the top compliment. Instead, though, her head snapped up. “Yes, I suppose he does. Are you worried I’m going to neglect you when he comes back?”

Daisy made a face. “What? No. Now you make me sound needy.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Right. Because the term is ‘special,’ not needy, and don’t you forget it, lady.” Daisy grinned, finding things a little more centered at the banter. 

But Jemma’s smile turned sincere. “You’ve always been special.”

Not the response she’d expected. Daisy squinted, even as warmth from the compliment threatened to reach her toes. “Thanks?”

“You’re very welcome. It’s not like I would let just anybody take me to my prenatal appointments.” Jemma turned her attention back to the tablet.

And just like that, Daisy remembered why she’d been looking for Jemma in the first place. “Speaking of—that’s Tuesday, right? What time?

“One o’clock. Can you still make it?”

Daisy shrugged. “I cleared my schedule for the day. I just wanted to make sure.”

“Oh, Daisy. You didn’t have to do that.”

She needed a day off, really, but Daisy didn’t mention that. They’d broken into an ATCU facility against Coulson’s wishes. It had been to spy on Constance Price and her creepy sidekick, but it had led to nothing but frustration. And a lecture from Coulson. So she could use a break from all of this, and Jemma’s doctor appointment had been an amazing excuse. “It’s fine.”

Jemma cleared her throat. “Since you did, however…”

Daisy perked up. “Ice cream?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you might come with me to look at some apartments. Oh, don’t give me that look, you know there’s no possible way I can stay on a SHIELD base with a baby.”

“Yeah, we do get infiltrated here a lot.” But she said it grudgingly, hunching her shoulders a little. She liked having Jemma nearby—and Fitz, Bobbi, Mack, all of them, too—and she knew it was childish to see Jemma leaving as anything but the next logical step. But the girl who’d grown up in foster homes would always be part of her, and she couldn’t fight the instinctual panic that once Jemma moved, they wouldn’t see each other at all.

On the other hand, she’d never really had the opportunity to go apartment-hunting before. That was more than a little exciting.

“Sounds good to me,” she said. “As long as—”

There was the fond eye-roll she’d expected earlier. “Yes, yes, of course we’ll get ice cream after,” Jemma said.

“Cool. Come get me when it’s time to go.” Daisy squeezed Jemma’s arm. By the time she reached the door, Jemma was already buried deep within her work, head bent studiously over the tablet as she made adjustments to the containment pod. Daisy paused and frowned without meaning to, eyes lingering on the pod.

After more than a decade in hell, Will deserved to come home and live a happy life. No doubt about that. He’d done his duty to his country. 

So why in the hell was she jealous?

She knew why, and it was getting harder and harder to deny it. And down that path led only danger. What had Jemma said to her on the roof? _Navigating coming back from another dimension whilst pregnant, on top of a romantic relationship that could ruin everything? Can you imagine the stress?_

The problem was, Daisy could imagine all of it. More and more, she _had_ been imagining all of it. And stressful wasn’t the word she would use.

But Jemma had a point. With a sigh, Daisy slipped out of the hangar and back to the real world.


End file.
